


Otherworldly, the curse of immortality

by Annasanvk



Series: Otherworldly [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2019-07-14 12:00:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16040057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annasanvk/pseuds/Annasanvk
Summary: Allyson Gilbert has always lived for the expectations of her father, yet, rarely met them. Meeting his expectations became even harder when she found out she was a witch. Now, all she can do is attempt to make some sense out of the sudden absurdity of a new world, making friends, while trying to find out why someone is trying to steal something important, that is hidden.





	1. Departure from Platform 9¾

**Author's Note:**

> First part of an eight-part series (I will cover all the books and might do a version of the cursed child; yet, I will definitely not use the same plot). 
> 
> Therefore this story will follow the same storyline of Harry Potter, although it will divide from canon soon. Allyson will not be a small side character. Everything will be written from her point of view and I'm seeing where it goes when you change one important detail and see how the ship wrecks (so to say).
> 
> Just to be certain: Part of this story will remain like the AU of the books, but there will be major differences. Story will slowly gain mature contents in the later parts (which will be forewarned).
> 
> In no way was this story written to make money or disrespect the original author. The rights are reserved to the original author (J.K. Rowling).
> 
> Enjoy:)

It was September the first of the year 1991. A warm breeze wafted over the crowded streets of London while the sun blazed on the roofs of the houses, daring anybody to come outside. Small little puffs of steam were pouring off of the heated asphalt and the cobbled stones leading towards the Entrance of the large Entrance Hall of England’s best-known station. Travellers outside, sunglasses balancing on their noses, sat back on their luggage waiting for their rides. Some were fanning their city’s brochures into their faces, while others held their cheap bottles of cold water against clammy skin.   
Behind them, Britain’s major railway station stood proud. A huge clock, hanging above the stairs leading towards the Underground, glistened in the late summer sun.

Although the air conditioners blared loudly, the heat had seeped inside the walls of the huge building, pressing down on its occupants. Allyson Gilbert, dressed in a simple shirt and a plain black skirt, was nervously pacing from one end to the other end of the hall. Her bound hair swirling behind her while her blue eyes gleamed in anger. The girl had been looking for platform 9¾ for the last twenty minutes, but so far no luck. She huffed impatiently. Allyson had been looking forward to getting on the Hogwarts Express and finding a quiet corner to try out her new spell work. Either way, there had been no trace of the red engine and she, nor her parents, had had any luck in finding it. 

Her father, an imposing man with dark blond hair and brown eyes, went off to find a conductor, to never appear again. He had been sure from the beginning this had all been a bad joke and had been more than a little angry when his only daughter came down the stairs of their home clutching a yellowish letter to her chest. 

Allyson huffed again, scanning the passengers walking by, hoping to see something odd. Anything odd, but so far she only saw tourists (who sometimes were admittedly odd), huge cameras dangling around their necks, business people, wearing neat suits and students, dressed in the most colourful dresses and shorts, waiting to be picked up to go to college or university.

“Calm yourself, love. We came early, the train won’t depart for another hour.” Allyson’s mother, a slightly tanned woman with dark brown hair, said. Her extravagant appearance seemed odd against the pale walls from the station. Pulling her daughter to the side, until they were both leaning against a wall, near platform nine, she ruffled the young girl’s hair.

Allyson sighed. “I know mum,” she admitted nervously, “but wouldn’t it be easier to have travelled with the other new students as the Deputy Headmistress had offered?’’

Her mother chuckled. “I don’t think we should force you to be around people your age unless we have no other choice,” she said softly and Allyson flushed slightly.

She didn’t care much for the company of others her age. A habit of being an outcast for so long, she supposed. Still, if she had travelled along with the other children who had just been introduced to magic, they might actually have known how to board a train on a platform that shouldn’t exist.  
Magic, she exhaled slowly. It had been such a revelation when she was told she was a witch. The letter came first. Obviously, she and her parents hadn’t believed it, but then Deputy head McGonagall came over to explain the basics of being a witch. It had been a wonderful day. Allyson had been outside rereading the letter she’d gotten over and over again, wrinkling her nose whenever the sun peeked through the cover of the leaves. 

She was homeschooled. Homeschooled from the age of eight because, again, she didn’t do well with children her age. Children her age were obtuse, loud without a reason, didn’t grasp how other people might think differently than they did. In short, she never liked her classmates too much. 

She bent one of her legs at the knee, swaying it back and forth while sucking her lower lip between her teeth. Her best friends were the books she went through and that was fine. She froze when someone’s footsteps neared her. Scrunching her eyebrows together, she glanced up at the house. She didn’t recognise the light footfalls on the gravel and a thrill of something ran down her spine. She tensed; ready to bolt.

“Miss Gilbert?” a voice asked. “Miss Allyson Gilbert?”

Allyson rolled onto her side, closing her book over the letter and scurried back until her back hit the rough bark of the tree. She looked up with a frown, glancing up into the face of an older woman. She had a stern but not unkind face and, Allyson’s frown deepened, she was very tall. That was not the oddest though, the woman wore strange lime-green robes with a pointy hat. 

“Yes,” she mumbled, “Who are you?”

‘Or more importantly, how did you get past our fence and onto our property?’

“My name is Minerva McGonagall,” she addressed herself and Allyson clumsily got to her feet. She knew that name, had seen that name on the parchment of the letter and Allyson’s eyes flicked back to her house again. 

“Perhaps you should take me to your parents?” the woman asked and Allyson glanced back up at the woman. 

“No,” she shook her head fiercely, “No, they’ve been upset enough about all of this and it is no longer funny,” 

The woman’s smile became amused and Allyson stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest. “You think this is a prank?”

“Of course, I think you’re trying to dupe me!” Allyson mumbled. In truth, she had no idea what this was, but she was sensible enough to know that this wasn’t normal. “The only thing I can’t figure out is why, or how… I’m pretty sure none of the kids from the village are smart enough to pull this off.”

The woman, McGonagall apparently, smiled and slowly retrieved a long thin stick from her robes. Allyson raised an eyebrow, refusing to allow any other emotion to flash across her face, but watched with keen interest as the woman pointed the stick at a scuttling bird. With a small flick the bird changed, grew in length and his feathers fell off, leaving a greyish fur. Allyson’s shoulders fell as she glanced at the cat in surprise.

“Wow!” 

The older woman chuckled and Allyson rubbed her hands together eagerly. “So all those times things around me happened… All these times I did things…”

“Yes,” the woman admitted.

“So,” Allyson started, flicking her wrist and watching with satisfaction as the wind picked up and several branches fell down out of the trees.

“Yes,” McGonagall said again, “but underaged Magic is against the rules.”

“Oh, there are rules?” Allyson asked, her interest peaked again. 

McGonagall smiled. “Shall we find your parents?”

Allyson nodded now, picking up her book and beckoning her head towards the house.

“Allyson?” 

“Hm,” she smiled up at her mother, focusing back on the present and glanced around the hall again. Because of her magical blood, she had been accepted at Hogwarts. Her parents were shocked, still were, but Allyson didn’t think they really were surprised. She had been able to do the strangest things from an early age on, and being labelled as a witch explained a lot. It didn’t mean they were happy to let her go away to an unknown school though.

“What time is it, mum?’’ Allyson asked as she leant against the metal of their trolley. Pulling her ticket out, she glanced at it for the hundredth time. What kind of moron numbers platforms in quarters? 

“Half-past ten,” the woman answered, her eyebrows scrunched together into a frown. “Your father should have been back by now." She continued, standing on her tip-toes staring at the crowd, to locate Allyson’s stubborn father.

The eleven-year-old bit down onto her lower lip, pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and sat down on her trolley. Wriggling her toes into her shoes the girl folded and unfolded her hands onto the rhythm of footsteps passing by. Magical folks should have been easy to spot. When she had been in the Wizarding shopping area, Diagon Alley, they had all been dressed in long robes. Many women wore strange hats and even the men wore strange headgear that would make Queen Elizabeth seem ordinary. They had odd customs; looking like aristocrats nearly a century out of date. Allyson’s eyes flitted over the heads of the many travellers, but again none stood out. She sighed tiredly while pushing the ticket back into the pocket of her skirt. 

“Sweetie, watch the luggage trolley. I’m going to find that father of yours.” Catherine Gilbert quipped and Allyson nodded absentmindedly. 

Her mother was immediately swallowed up by the sea of people. She was beautiful, her curly dark hair practically danced over her back. Pursing her lips, Allyson glanced at her retreating back until she could no longer make her mother out. She had always loved her mother’s tanned skin. It was lively and always gave her a warm appearance, which was in contradiction of her own. Allyson’s skin was pale and seemed to glow whenever the sun rays fell on it. The only sign of life, as she used to say when the mood would take her, was the slight blushes adorning her cheeks.

With another heavy sigh, she gave a nervous glance at her wristwatch. A quarter to eleven. Frowning, she pushed a lock of hair, the one she had cut off as a child and had been bothering her ever since, behind her ear. Pulling her backpack from the trolley, she looked for ‘Hogwarts; A History’, in hopes to find the way to the obviously hidden platform 9¾.

“There we are, boy. Platform 9 - Platform 10. Your platform should’ve been in between, but I think it has yet to be built.’’ A voice behind her said nastily. Allyson’s eyes widened before she turned around swiftly.

Coming up from the Station’s Entrance, was a boy with messy black hair. His clothes were at least two sized too large and even from the distance, Allyson noticed his glasses were held together with adhesive tape. Next to him, smiling evilly, stood a big beefy man, with hardly any neck and a large moustache. Clapping his hands together in obvious enjoyment, which made Allyson’s blood boil, he leant closer to the boy. Allyson couldn’t hear what he said, but the boy stepped back and looked around the crowd with a worried expression on his face.

“Well, have fun at school!’’ The beefy man suddenly exclaimed loudly, letting the trolley go and turned away. Just before he reached the exit, he turned and gave the boy, no older than twelve Allyson estimated, a mocking wave. The hysterical laughing even reached her ears and Allyson felt slightly unnerved. The boy looked about ready to scream.

He stopped a passing guard, practically attaching himself to the older man, and asked something. The guard’s face reddened, pursed his lips and said something. Something nasty, if the reddening of his face was any indicator. The boy immediately let go and stepped back, his cheeks turning a delightful pink. 

Allyson swallowed. Those people had been talking about a platform between platform 9 and 10. There was a reasonable chance they were talking about platform 9¾. Talking about going to Hogwarts…

Allyson steered her trolley away from the wall and walked up to the boy. He wasn’t noticing her.

“Uhm,—” There was a snow-white owl on his trolley. Oh well, worst case he would think she was a lunatic. He wouldn’t be the first. “—looking for Platform 9¾?’’ 

The boy looked up. Relief flashing across his face. He was a bit taller than Allyson and behind his round glasses, he had appealing green eyes. The tense line that was his mouth relaxed and he pushed his glasses further up his nose 

“Yeah!’’ he said and Allyson smiled. “You know how to get there?’’ Her smile faltered. 

“Oh,” she hadn’t thought about that and pursed her lips. “Erm no, I don’t know. But I suppose we have a better chance at finding it together?’’

The boy smiled and nodded. “I’m Harry, Harry Potter,” he said, offering her his hand. She accepted his hand with a timid smile, all the while wondering why the name ‘Potter’, sounded so familiar…

“I’m Allyson, Allyson Gilbert." She replied. “I’ll take it you’ll be a first year too?”

He nodded. The owl on his trolley hooted, feathers ruffled and yellow eyes peering out into the entrance hall in a way Allyson would call huffy on any human. “I take it Professor McGonagall forgot to mention how to reach Platform 9¾ as well?”

“McGonagall?”

“The Deputy Headmistress who explained what being magical meant?” Allyson asked, but he only looked at her with blank eyes. “Apparently, she wasn’t the one who came to you…”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “Hagrid came. Are you here alone?”

“Nope,” Allyson answered, popping the ‘p’ before she leant back against her trunk on the trolley. “My parents are somewhere around as well,” she explained, “I’m just not sure where they are right now. Dad was looking for someone to help us and mum went away to look for him when he didn’t return.”

“I see,” Harry said. They both looked around the hall once more. According to the large clock, above the arrival board, there were only ten minutes left to board the train to Hogwarts. And they still were nowhere closer to find out where the bloody Platform was. Allyson frowned, it wouldn’t do to miss her ride to school. A year of magic was awaiting her and Allyson felt an almost frantic need to learn how to control it.

“It should be here,” she said, taking out the little, now rumbled ticket and showed it at Harry with a deep frown marrying her eyebrows. “It says right here; From King’s Cross Station, London, to Hogsmeade. Platform 9 and ¾.”

“I feel like a fool.” Harry snorted, “I’m stranded in the middle of a strange station, with a trunk I can hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money and a grand owl. Where the hell should we go to? How do they expect us to go to this place when they don’t explain?”

“I think Professor McGonagall explains where and how to get on the platform when she takes the Muggle-borns out on orientation.”

“Orientation?”

Allyson nodded, “Yes when she came to my house she told us that she organised a Muggle-born orientation every year and that I could come along as well— Well, I didn’t go, obviously, because I wanted to go with my parents.” she finished lamely.

Harry didn’t seem to think it was weird and nodded thoughtfully. “Look!” 

She followed his pointing finger to a group of red-haired people. Four boys, a plump woman and a small girl pushed past them. They were all wearing old clothes, barely passable in the summer air of Cross station and Allyson was sure she heard the words; ‘—Packed with Muggles, of course —’ and she eyed Harry with barely concealed excitement.

‘Muggles,’ he mouthed at Allyson. She nodded and they both followed the red-headed family.

“Well, what’s the platform number?’’ the mother of the four boys asked.

“9¾!” the little girl squeaked. She jumped up and down and her red hair was caught in the light of the sun. Stepping closer to her mother, she grabbed her mother’s hand when a Muggle almost bumped into her. Glancing up at the plump woman the young girl squeezed her hand. “Ma, why can’t I go too?”

“You’re too young, Ginny. You can go next year.” The woman admonished sternly before looking at her oldest son. “All right, Percy, you go first.”

Harry and Allyson irked closer. The eldest, tall and an imperious look on his face, walked up to the wall separating platform 9 and 10 with firm strides. He had an air of arrogance coming off him in waves, and Allyson felt her toes curl. Just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, he seemed to vanish. 

“He disappeared into thin air!” Allyson exclaimed, trying to hush her voice a bit. Harry nodded, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Not into the air, but through the wall,” Harry said softly.

“Just as weird though.” Allyson chuckled.

Two younger boys, identical twins, walked up next. With encouragement from the small woman, they stepped towards the solid looking wall and seemed to vanish as well. Harry had been right, they vanished through the wall.

“This is weird,” Allyson said, frowning slightly. Harry leant on his trolley while fingering the brakes. The second twin went forward. “They just walk towards it?”

“Perhaps we should simply ask?" Harry responded.

Allyson nodded slowly. She supposed they could. Just as they were about to approach the plump woman, a large hand clasped around Allyson’s shoulder. Both she and Harry turned around and Harry almost fell against the trolley.

“Dad!” Allyson exclaimed. Mikeal Gilbert towered over them, his sunglasses pushed back on his head and his mouth set into a firm line. He glanced down at Harry with a frown and Harry nervously dragged his hand through his hair. Allyson couldn’t blame him. Her father always had an imposing air around him. Something he got from being in politics for so long. “We figured out how to get through towards Platform 9¾.” She informed him happily. 

“You did?” Catherine Gilbert interrupted, stepping up next to her husband. Mikeal indulged his wife with a small smile, before glancing through the hall. 

“Yes, although this might sound a bit strange, oh btw, this is Harry,” Allyson said shoving the boy to her parents. “He goes to Hogwarts as well.”

Her mother smiled. She was the approachable one. “Hello, I’m Catherine Gilbert, and this is my husband Mikeal.” Harry nodded.

“Harry, Harry Potter, it’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am." He shook Catherine’s hand. 

Allyson smiled, “As I was saying, the platform is behind the brick wall. We saw three boys go through it.”

Her father gave her a look as if she’d grown a second head. “Through… the wall?" He asked slowly, even Allyson’s mother looked unsure. “Pet, don’t get me wrong, but how can a platform be behind a brick wall? Without an Entrance to be specific. Even with these wizards and witches, this is bizarre!”

“Ah,” a third voice interrupted. “You’re going to Hogwarts too?” They all turned around to the sound of a fifth party. The plump woman from before stood now only a few feet away. The little red-headed girl took hiding behind her. 

“Ehm, yes ma’am,” Harry said.

“My youngest son is new too. I can imagine it’s a bit much at first.” the woman explained, chuckling. As both Allyson and Harry glanced at her to elaborate, she pointed at the thick brick wall between platforms 9 and 10, “You’ll only have to walk to the wall. Don’t stop and no need to be afraid, you’ll not collide with it, that’s very important. If you’re a bit afraid, you better run.”

“Wait a minute,” Mikeal Gilbert seemed to have found his voice again; “You’re telling me they have to run towards a wall? To what, smash their heads open? Who are you anyway?”

The woman smiled. She seemed amused and Allyson was somewhat glad she wasn’t insulted by her father’s tone. “I’m Molly Weasley, and you really don’t have to worry, the wall will allow them to pass through—” 

“Pass through?” Mikeal started but interrupted himself, when Allyson wasn’t the only one to glare at him. Harry chuckled and even the woman smiled gently. 

“Well, you do have to hurry. The train will depart in only a few minutes.” The small woman said as she pushed the sleeve of her dress — a yellow flower petal pattern adorning it — up revealing a small wristwatch. “I’m sorry, but non-magical people can’t pass.”

Her father looked as if he was about to protest, but her mother intercepted him: “It’s about time Mikeal. We knew it would be— strange, but we promised.” Catherine said softly, smiling affectionately at her only child. Allyson felt a lump grow in her throat.

Mikeal nodded slowly, “All right,” He turned to his daughter and developed her in a bear hug. 

“Don’t forget to write us, Sweetheart.” Her mother joined in, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You better not forget that.”

“I won’t!’’ was Allyson’s smothered answer. 

Harry’s mouth thinned and his eyes looked haunted for a moment before he schooled his features back to nonchalant. Allyson felt a pang of guilt, remembering what his family had been like. The way his family had dropped him off— 

Her mother seemed to notice (she always had an antenna for how people felt). The next thing they knew she had wrapped her arms around the boy. “Do take care of our daughter, she’s always a bit awkward and we only have one.”

“MUM!”

“I’ll keep an eye on them. You won’t need to worry. I’ll let you know how the boarding goes.” The plump woman assured, glancing at her wristwatch again. Although reluctantly, Allyson’s parents nodded. Allyson gave them both one last hug, before steering her trolley around and fell into step with Harry.

“Okay, erm, run straight to the brick wall eh?" Harry muttered and Allyson felt slightly less awkward.

Allyson chuckled nervously, before shrugging. The bricks looked quite solid to be running through. Harry pushed his trolley to the barrier. He quickened his pace and started to run. Allyson breathed in heavily. She bent over the cart and started to run as well, her feet slipping slightly over the smooth floor. She heard heartbeat drumming loudly into her ears. They were going to smash right into that barrier. Harry was only a foot before her. The barrier came closer and closer. She closed her eyes, and waited for the crash—

It never came… They just ran further… 

Slowing down, the wheels of the trolley screeching slightly, Allyson breathed out a sigh of relief. It was a rather fascinating experience. They were standing on a crowded platform, trying to avoid being trampled by other students. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to the platform. The board above their heads read ‘Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock’.

Allyson felt giddy with excitement. They made it!

The smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, beginning to fill the air above her and cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs. Harry and Allyson made their way to the engine. The first carriages were already packed with students; some students hanging out the windows to talk to their families, some fighting over seats and others were hugging their friends, missed during their summer escapades. 

Allyson smiled, wishing she could behold the picture a few moments longer but that just wouldn’t do. Their ride was waiting and if they lingered here too long, the Hogwarts Express would leave without her. Harry smiled, before steering his luggage towards the engine. Allyson followed closely behind him. A pair of redheaded boys sprinted passed them, laughing loudly and Allyson recognised them as the twin boys from before.

Owls flew around all over the Station delivering post and almost everywhere Allyson looked there were children with their parents. Harry’s eyes lingered over a couple hugging a boy their age and she felt another wave of sympathy run through her. She linked her arm through his and smiled at him. They trudged through the chaos of the platform, passing the little girl with the red hair and her oldest brother from before. The boy was tracing his fingers over a shiny badge while the girl glared at the locomotive that was threatening to pull away.

“It’s big,” Harry muttered awkwardly and Allyson got the distinct impression he’d never been on a train before.

“I’m sure this is going to be a great year.” She decided and he smiled thankfully before nodding. They passed an old woman and a small chubby boy. The woman seemed very displeased while the young boy looked upset.

“Gran, I’ve lost my toad again,” a round-faced boy, lower lip struck out, said softly.

“Oh, Neville,” an old woman, tall and tired, sighed. 

The excitement was radiating off from the students and Allyson smiled happily. They lugged their trunks and made their way down the hallway. Finding a compartment was difficult though. On either side of them, students were packing away their trunks into their compartments, leaving hardly any compartment available. They had to stop every few feet to wait for someone to lead their trunk into their compartment. Allyson sighed, trying to orientate herself a bit while trying to avoid being trampled by the older students. Harry, being a bit faster than Allyson, guided his trunk to the middle of the train in no time. 

She stared at his back and dragged her trunk through the train with a slight grimace. The throng of people was suffocating and Allyson was slightly reminded of one of the school trips she had been on when she was attending Muggle school back at Germany. She hadn’t liked it all that much. She blew a lock of hair out of her face as Harry suddenly stopped, waving his hand at her eagerly.

“Ah, I found an empty compartment,” he cried still waving his hand at her. The compartment was at the very end of the train and Allyson sighed miserable as she started to cross the corridor. She pulled her trunk into the room, the door closing behind her with a thud. The compartment was small but comfy, the seats looked as if they were inviting her to slouch down onto them, and a large window gave you the perfect view outside. Allyson glanced up at the overhead storage and she started to pull her trunk up, trying to stow it atop the luggage rack. She wasn’t managing. Giving her an amused look, Harry stepped up next to her. “Need some help?” 

“Wipe that smile off your face.” Allyson huffed. “But yes, your help would be greatly appreciated.”

Standing on his tiptoes, he gave her trunk one good last push, securing it between the ceiling and the metal of the luggage rack, and smirked. “There you go.”

Allyson rolled her eyes, before plopping down on the couch opposite and looked through the window. 

“Hey, it’s the woman from before,” Allyson said as she spotted the small plump lady. She was crossing the Platform holding tightly onto the hand of the redheaded girl child — as if afraid she would pull herself free and lunge for the tree — and Allyson stuck her head out of the window. 

“Thanks for your help ma’am!” she shouted. The woman’s head shot up towards their window. Her head wasn’t the only to turn towards her, because her shout had drawn quite some attention to their window. Allyson felt her face redden, and, as several people curiously glanced at her, she pulled her head back inside. She sat down in the leather of the seat, her face heated up considerably. 

Harry chuckled, smiling politely as the woman came closer to their window. 

“Do enjoy yourself, dears. I will make sure your parents won’t worry.” The woman nodded to the children, before turning back, probably pursuing her own. 

“She thinks we’re related,” Harry muttered looking amused. Allyson glanced at the boy before clucking her tongue. 

“Well, brother. What will we be doing while travelling towards Hogwarts?” she asked sarcastically, “Or will you be enjoying yourself with a book?”

He didn’t really look like a person who’d enjoyed spending the time it took to get to Hogwarts reading a book, but she didn’t know for sure. Harry smiled, before slouching down into his seat. “No, but I have no idea what to do either.” 

Allyson hummed in agreement, flinching when the train started to depart. Harry glanced through the window and Allyson suddenly noticed a lightning bolt shaped scar on his right temple. She realised now why his name had sounded so familiar. Tapping her fingers against her thigh she decided to let it go. She didn’t think she would like to be reminded how her parents would have been killed so it was only fair if he had the same luxury. 

“Are you okay?" Harry asked.

She nodded. “Oh, yes, just thinking…”

He seemed suspicious, self-consciously flattening his hair over the scar. The sound of the train barrelling through the greenery seemed a bit too loud in her ears when the silence fell. Allyson picked at a lock of her hair and glanced outside.   
She used to like trains. Used to enjoy watching them pass by when she was a child. It was the only reason her mother used to take the train when she took Allyson out. Because Allyson liked to travel by them. The doors to their compartment reluctantly eased open, shrieking slightly when it got stuck and Allyson frowned when she noticed the youngest Weasley boy squeeze himself inside. 

“Erm,” he looked at the two occupants cautiously, “can I sit here with you?” 

Harry cocked his head. Allyson peered at him. He wrung his hands together and she glanced curiously at the sleeves which stretched up his forearms. His clothes didn’t seem to fit him very well. “Everything is already full.”

She curiously let her eyes trail over him. He was tall and thin, especially for an eleven-year-old. He seemed nice enough with freckles, watery blue eyes and a nose that was slightly too big for his face. Just like his older brothers and his younger sister his hair was red. It clashed feverishly with his clothes and Allyson noticed he had a black smooch on his nose. He seemed to be pointedly ignoring her and his eyes never strayed from Harry. Allyson thought he looked a bit feverish until the other boy nodded and Weasley smiled. 

He sat in the seat across from Harry looking like he was struggling not to barrage the other boy with questions.

Allyson pressed herself against the window, making herself comfortable so she could read a book. Her mother always used to say that three was a crowd and Allyson didn’t doubt that with the redhead being a boy, Harry would have more to talk about with him than with her. Leaning her chin onto her hand, she glanced absentmindedly at the red-haired boy again. Weasley’s eyes trailed curiously over Harry until the messy-haired boy met his gaze. Reddening until his cheeks almost matched his hair, he quickly looked away. Even with his eyes slanted down, he kept shooting looks at Harry.

“So,” Allyson started awkwardly but before she could finish her sentence Weasley scuttled to the edge of his seat and slapped his hands against his knees.

“Are you really Harry Potter?” he asked, an excited etch to his tone. He looked as if the cat was out of the bag and she pursed her lips.

Harry nodded. He looked quite embarrassed. Allyson didn’t think she’d ever met someone who was this direct. He wasn’t done though and excitedly started prattle. Allyson didn’t think anyone had ever said so much to her, without trying to be insulting (even if he wasn’t really talking to her). 

“Fred and George already mentioned they saw your scar, but I wasn’t sure.” The boy explained. “You really have — I mean…” he pointed to Harry’s face.

“Oh,” Harry muttered before pushing the dark strands of hair out of his forehead; the lighting bolt scar became visible again. The boy openly stared.

“So, that’s were You-know-who -”

“Yes,” said Harry, “but I don’t remember anything about it.”

Allyson blinked. She didn’t think it was all that surprising he had no memory of that day. He’d only been a baby back then, after all. If she was honest, she didn’t think she would want to remember her parents’ death.

“Nothing?” the red-head muttered, interrupting her thoughts. He seemed somewhat sad about it as if remembering someone killing your family would somehow make Harry better. Allyson wondered what it was that appealed to him. He seemed terribly excited and she didn’t understand why.

“Well, a lot of green light, but other than that, nothing,” Harry admitted slowly.

“Green,” Allyson echoed. She would probably have to ask about that when lessons began.

“Yes,” Harry nodded and Allyson shifted in her seat.

“Wow,” the boy said, “Oh, I’m Ron. Ron Weasley.”

Harry smiled, not bothering to introduce himself as Ron already knew his name. Slightly annoyed that Ron Weasley didn’t even deem her worthy of being introduced to, she cleared her throat. 

“I’m Allyson Gilbert, pleasure to meet you.” She introduced, debating if it was that much of a pleasure. Her displeasure grew when he didn’t even seem to listen. Harry shifted awkwardly into his seat and with a sigh, she pulled her legs up on her seat.

“Gilbert, that doesn't ring a bell,” Ron muttered suddenly, glancing at Allyson as if seeing her for the first time.

Allyson clucked her tongue. “I would be surprised if it did, I’m muggle-born.”

Ron nodded, “I see. First witch in the family?”

“As far, as I know of.” She answered. In fourth grade, she had tried to research her family name as a history assignment. It hadn’t gone well. The name Gilbert was an old name and went back centuries. She was quite sure she wouldn’t have known if anyone else from her family tree was a witch or wizard. “I’ve tried to do some reading, but this world is somewhat different…”

Harry nodded, “It is!”

“So you both live with Muggles. How is that?” Ron asked, his curiosity spiked. She supposed Muggles were as fascinating to him, as witches and wizards initially had been to Allyson and her parents.

She shrugged: “I don’t think my Muggle parents differ all that much from any other parent. They raised me and tried to teach me the world. They failed in teaching me manners though.” She added with a smile. 

“Well,” Harry began, his lips quirking at her last comment, “mine are horrible. Not all Muggles are, of course, but my aunt, uncle and nephew they’re just… Anyway, I wish I had three wizard brothers instead!”

“Five,” Ron said, who, for some reason looked rather bleak. “I’m the sixth who goes to Hogwarts.” his face grew ever bleaker and his voice grew angry. “It means I have a lot to live up too. They all have these special qualities and I don’t. And also having five brothers, means you get all their leftovers. I mean, I got Bill’s old robes, Charlie's old wand and of course I got Scabbers.”

“What’s a Scabbers?” Allyson asked absentmindedly, surprised at how much contempt he felt for his family. Ron scrunched his nose up in anger. Grumbling under his breath, he pulled out a thick sleeping grey rat of his breast pocket. 

“This is Scabbers and he’s absolutely useless.” Ron declared and Allyson slowly leaned in to study the animal. He leered at her through sleepy half-lidded eyes and Allyson felt a smile pull at the corners of her lips.

“Hm,” she finally decided on, “I find him cute.”

“Why do girls always insist on thinking things being cute?” Harry asked and Allyson gave him an imperious look.

“I don’t think you are cute,”

“Oh, shots have been fired,” he grinned and Ron glanced at the two of them with a curious look. 

“You think he’s cute?” Ron asked, looking skeptic before shaking his head. Apparently, them not making much sense didn’t really bother him. “The only thing he ever does is eat and sleep. Percy got an owl for getting to be a prefect,” Harry gave Allyson a look, obviously not sure what that meant. “But they didn’t have any mon-, I mean, I was stuck with Scabbers.” 

Ron’s ears turned red and he shook his head violently, turning his face to the window. Allyson glanced at him curiously, but he didn’t elaborate. Unsure of what to do, she leant her lower arms on her knees and looked at Harry.

“So,” she started thinking about her recent acquired Hogwarts a History and smiled. “have you given it any thought what house you want to be in?”

Harry shrugged, but Ron shifted into his seat, suddenly excited again. “Gryffindor!” he decided without missing a beat.

“The house for the brave?” Allyson asked and Harry glanced at her. “I suppose a good house. I liked Ravenclaw as well. I quite enjoy books and I do value intelligence,” she muttered, before scrunching her eyebrows together, “Perhaps even Slytherin. I am ambitious and resourceful, or that’s what my parents always tell me.”

“Merlin, no Slytherin!” Ron said, sneering in disgust. “Believe me, you don’t want to be sorted in Slytherin!”

Harry looked up at Ron with vast interest as well. “Why not?” he asked, eyes round and the expression on his face was curious. 

Ron gave a frustrated yell and shook his head. “Because only dark wizards go to Slytherin!”

“That’s not what the book said,” Allyson muttered pulling her bag on her lap. “It’s stated that several great wizards came from that house, there are several great wizards from others as well, certainly, but I saw a few noteworthy names like Merlin and— I did some research you see, I feel like I will be behind and—”

“Okay,” Ron interrupted. “I’m sure your book doesn’t mention that Slytherin breeds dark wizards, did it?”

“Well,” Allyson started but Ron shook his head reverently. She was starting to get annoyed again. “Honestly, I don’t think a quarter of the school population will turn out evil.”

“Yes, well, honestly only bullies, followers and blood-purists go there.” Ron snapped. “I’m pretty sure every convicted Death Eater came from Slytherin!”

“What’s a Death Eater?” Harry asked suddenly.

“You’re kidding right?” Ron asked surprised, “You have to be kidding me because those are the followers of you-know-who!”

“You mean Voldemort?”

Ron flinched, his face suddenly getting pale. “You said his name!”

“I don’t get why his name is such a big deal,” Allyson said dryly. “But just because a few of his followers—”

“Not a few,” Ron snapped. “There are so many of them, I mean the Lestrange brothers, Rosier, he was killed by the Aurors and—”

“Right, guys, different subject, please.” Harry muttered when Allyson felt her cheeks go red. So a few examples out of some kind of boogie man’s army was enough to declare a whole House evil? Allyson rubbed at her eyes and sat back against the cushions. 

“Well, at least when we get sorted, we’ll know each other,” Harry said, crossing his arms over his abdomen, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Assuming we’re in the same house,” Allyson muttered, “but yes, I suppose we at least know each other.”

They spent a large part of the ride in silence. Allyson glanced out of the window, speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. Harry and Ron continued to speak in hushed tones and Allyson listened absentmindedly as Ron explained what he thought they would have to do to get sorted. Their brothers, Fred and George, had told Ron that they had to fight a troll and Allyson snickered behind her hand (that was very inadequate).  
Around half past twelve, a dimpled woman with a warm motherly smile passed their compartment with a cart full of all kinds of candy. Harry glanced at the sweets before pulling a sack of galleons out of his pocket and bought up the complete candy cart, leaving them in a mess of colour full candy-bars and chocolate frogs. Allyson had never really appreciated candy, she just didn’t care for it.

Propping her elbows up on her knees she settled with a book and listened absentmindedly as the two boys fell into a conversation about Quidditch. She was deeply absorbed in her book when a sharp knock resounded through the compartment, bringing Allyson back from her wandering thoughts. The compartment door slid open and the boy with the round face — Neville Allyson remembered — stepped in. He seemed to be close to tears and his cheeks were blotched red.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice shaking. “but, have you seen my toad?”

Speechless the three children in the compartment all shook their heads. Allyson frowned; hadn’t he lost it already on the platform back in London? 

“I’ve lost him,” Neville explained. “Trevor always runs away.”

“I’m sure you’ll find him,” Harry said sympathetically. Allyson deducted he must have found it and lost it on the train again before she nodded. Straightening in her seat, she dragged her nails along the arm of her seat. “Perhaps—”

But Neville had already stepped out of the compartment with a strangled sob, and the door closed with a louder thud than was necessary. 

“Oh, I was just about to ask if he’d already tried the Accio-charm! Well, I suppose he wouldn’t, considering we aren’t allowed to do any magic outside of school…” Allyson muttered. His grandmother had obviously been a witch — with the strange way of dressing —, and the Accio-charm was a commonly used spell so he might have known it, yet perhaps couldn’t perform it.

“The what?” Ron asked. Harry also gave her a blank look. “No wait, I know that one, but that’s not a first-year spell.”

“No,” Allyson conceded, “I’ve practiced several spells that I thought could come in handy. My father got me an advanced charms book…”

“Right,” Ron said clucking his tongue disbelievingly, “A bit of a bookworm I suppose,”

Allyson felt her cheeks grow hot and Harry cleared his throat. 

“So?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Ron shrugged, “but I mean, there’s no real way she can do spells from an advanced charms book.”

“Oh, do you think so?” Allyson asked angrily, “Do you want me to show you how to set something on fire?” she asked, glaring at Ron and his eyes widened. Setting something on fire wasn’t really an advanced spell, but she was rather good at it. “I seem to have a great affinity for setting things, or people for that matter, on fire!” 

“You wouldn’t,” he stuttered and Allyson pulled her wand out with deliberation.

“All right,” Harry said, snickering when Ron scooted to the far corner away from Allyson. “I’m sure you’re great at setting things on fire, but let’s try to keep this civil.”

Allyson felt, what she had learned to recognise as her magic, surge through her and she exhaled loudly. She needed to get out before she actually did try to use one of her spells on him. He wouldn’t be the first one she hurt.

“I’m going out for a walk.” She said, rubbing her hands together tiredly. “Need to visit the loo anyway. See you two in a bit.” She smiled tightly, before standing up — almost tripping over Ron’s long legs — and quickly left through the door. The door slipped closed with a soft thud behind her, but the thin barrier was not enough to completely dull the boys’ voices.

“She’s kinda scary,” she heard Ron’s voice mutter and Allyson glared at the door.

“I think she’s brilliant,” Harry answered defensively and she couldn’t help but smile. No one had ever thought she was brilliant. Well, her parents did, but they were obviously biased.

She stretched her arms above her head and made her way through the aisle. Several older boys were childishly launching themselves through the hall. She wasn’t sure how they could think their little game was even remotely funny or interesting and she sighed; boys were so immature. Trying to avoid being trampled, she quickened her pace and rounded the corner with a huff. She could only barely avoid colliding with an equal displeased looking girl with bouncy chestnut hair and big front teeth. 

“I’m sorry,” Allyson said, side-stepping a boy with a yellow scarf. 

The girl was Allyson’s age and had already changed into her school robes. She looked incredibly put out and shrugged. “It’s okay,” she said, glaring at another boy. Her eyes were filled with so much fury Allyson almost burst out laughing. 

Inhaling slowly, the girl seemed to gain some control over her temper and looked back at Allyson: “For God sake, you’d think they would have some common sense?”

“Boys,” Allyson said as if that was the only thing she needed to say.

The girl seemed to agree and nodded her head. “Have you seen a toad?” she asked and Allyson slowly shook her head. 

“No, sorry,” she answered, “Is it Neville’s?”

“Yes!” 

“He’s been asking around for it, but I haven’t seen it.” 

“All right, it was worth a shot,” she said, “You probably should get into your school robes. I expect we will be arriving shortly.”

“Right, of course, thanks.”

Allyson pushed a lock of hair out of her face and watched the other girl turn the corner. She started down the corridor again, seeing a toilet sign in the distance and dodged a tall boy pushing past the crowd. She wasn’t really paying attention to the other students around her and almost screamed when someone slammed into her back with full force. 

Allyson yelped, hobbled, lost her balance. Her left knee propelled forward to take her weight and she closed her eyes and waited for the impact of the ground. It never came; instead of the hard metallic wall and the scarlet carpet, she knocked someone else down with her. Automatically her fingers twisted around soft fabric and her head hit something hard, stunning her momentarily. Without looking she knew the skin of her knee was seeping blood and the sound of her own heartbeat rushing past her ears was disorienting. Allyson didn’t move for a moment, trying to keep her breathing even, as the taste of blood filled her mouth. 

“Damn!” A muffled voice grounded out and Allyson’s senses slowly returned to her. 

She gasped, ignoring the angry pulse of her knee and tried to sit up. When she opened her eyes, her face was inches away from a very annoyed looking blond boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Retouched 17 December 2018


	2. Prologue

Prologue  
‘Childhood is not from birth to a certain age; it’s the Kingdom where nobody dies.’  
Edna St. Vincent Millay

It was a chilly, clear summer morning, which in itself was a surprise in the crowded streets of London. The sun stood high in a cloudless sky while people wound around over the sidewalks. Amongst them was a young girl, obediently standing still in front of a taller, dark-haired woman. The girl scowled while the woman, obviously her mother, applied sunblock onto her pale forehead, leaving it a milky-white and gleaming, but her eyes sparkled with mirth, betraying that she felt uncaring for the white stripes on her face. When mother and daughter both were assured she would not get burned by the sun, they followed the throng of people. The girl, still very young, walked at the hand of her mother and a man, tall with dark hair and sunglasses on his nose, sneered while placing an odd gentle hand on the mother’s back. He was obviously the girl’s father. As they walked, the people around them seemed to unconsciously part away. The man was intimidating; his strut confident and his jaw set.

“Father,” the young girl started, noticing the irritated expression on his face, “something the matter?” 

“No, sweetheart, there’s nothing wrong.”

The young girl shrugged helplessly and continued her trot along the crowded sidewalk. 

As the little family waved through the throng of people, the girl; she couldn’t be older than eleven years old, pointed at a small dilapidated alley; reading ‘Charing Cross Road’. 

“That’s it!” She decided excitedly, tugging her mother towards the road.

Crossing the street, the little family found themselves in a dilapidated, forgotten part of London. The cobblestone street was deserted, the only sounds came from a soft wind rustling the old cracked leaves in one corner. The girl thought the street to be a bit creepy, the soft rays of sunlight reflecting off of the murky shop windows only contributing to the spooky feeling. 

“It should be here…”

“Are you sure, Allyson?” Catherine Gilbert asked, an almost inaudible accent coating her voice.

“Professor McGonagall told us it was in the southern corner of London,” Allyson said, no accent to be detected. An accent which should better not be there with the number of teachers and strict governesses she had had in the past.

The man, Mikeal Gilbert, traced his finger over the band of his wristwatch before flitting his eyes over the abandoned properties. “I believe the woman did say something about a pub only our daughter could see.” The doubt clearly evident in his voice, but just as his daughter no accent could be heard.

Allyson nodded, slipping her hand out of her mother’s and glanced through the street; looking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. It took her a moment before she noticed a broken-down inn. The pub McGonagall had told them about stood awkwardly between an old second-hand bookshop and a record shop.

“It’s there,” she decided, pointing at the empty wall her parents could only see. Allyson, on the other hand, saw two dirty windows; through which she could barely see inside, and the paint peeling of the walls. There was a sign hanging above the door with the name ‘The Leaky Cauldron’ and it actually seemed to be leaking out of the bottom. Taking her mother’s hand again, Allyson smiled, before pulling the older woman along. Allyson’s mother, her hair falling in perfect curls, tightened her grip on her daughter’s hand, as she stepped through a wall and into an old grubby inn. The place was very different from the other restaurants and bars Allyson had been in so far, the room vastly bigger than it seemed from the outside and it smelled slightly of beer, tobacco and cinnamon. Catherine blinked tiredly, glancing around in awe, while Mikeal Gilbert merely massaged his jaw. His shoulders were tense, but other than that, the man showed no sign something was wrong. It was a trait Allyson had always envied him for.

Sunlight poured in through the paned windows, making golden rectangles on the floor and illuminated the small specs of dust floating through the area. Despite the hour, the large room was already packed with people: Witches and Wizards, funnily dressed in either robes or bizarre ensembles she’d never seen before. Although the pub was dingy and Missus Simpson (their cleaning lady) would have a fit if she saw the amount of grease on the tables, the atmosphere was light and cheerful.

After a few minutes the strangeness wore off and both her parents seemed to settle a bit. Catherine Gilbert ran her hand once more through her hair, fingers clasping tightly around a dark lock before her features finally relaxed. Allyson smiled sympathetically at her mother, before climbing up onto a stool and waved at the bartender. 

“Excuse me,” Allyson softly started, ignoring her father’s sneer as he glared at a particular shabby spot in the corner. The man, dressed in a fading violent and green waistcoat turned around; he was old and quite bald. When he smiled brightly Allyson realised with a small prickle, that he missed all of his teeth. 

“How can I help, little lady?”

“Um, how do I get to Diagon Alley?”

“Ah, Hogwarts, kid?” He asked, glancing at her parents huddled together while staring transfixed at a self-cleaning cloth, which was making circular movements over a tabletop. 

Allyson nodded, shooting a fleeting glance towards her parents. “They’re not used to much.” She said in ways of explanation. 

The bartender clucked his tongue before glancing at the girl again. “Muggle-born I take it?”

Allyson nodded again. 

“Okay, follow me.” The man said, drying his hands on a towel. Beckoning her parents, Allyson followed the bartender. They waved through the empty tables and chairs and were led out through the back of the bar and out into a small stone courtyard. The only things occupying the area were a trashcan and a number of weeds curling out from between the stones. Yet, there was nowhere to go, the stone courtyard was blocked by a huge cinderblock wall.

“You only need a wand.” The bartender said, pulling out his wand and pointed it at the wall before tapping at some bricks. “Three up and two across, remember that.”

“Okay, thank you!” Allyson said as she noticed the wall shudder. A moment later the bricks he tapped wiggled slightly and a small hole started to appear; growing wider and wider until the wall had completely moved aside and left the little group with the view on a very large archway.

The long winding alleyway was bustling with activity. Her mother chuckled softly as she noticed the strange clothing and her father gave a great suffering sigh. Allyson paid him little heed and cocked her head to the side as she noticed a stack of cauldrons, towering in front of a shop. They looked as if it was only a matter of time before gravity would pull them harshly back against the cobbled stones.

“This is amazing,” Allyson whispered gleefully and clapped her hands together. Owls flew past their heads and the large crowd of people created an indiscernible hum as they spoke to each other. 

“Shall we go?” Allyson asked as she stood on her tip-toes trying to get a view of the shops further down the alleyway. There were a few shops where children had their faces pressed up against the glass windows. The shops that seemed to be extremely popular were some kind of joke-shop in which things exploded and a shop which sold brooms. The broomshop was by far one of the most popular shops with children milling in and around. 

Catherine placed a gentle hand on Allyson’s shoulder when she reached out of her parents reach, nosying in windows of the shops opposite of them. Her lips jutted out in slight defiance as her curiosity was left to fester and she stretched up on her tiptoes once again to see further down the street.

“Where to first?” Mikeal asked and wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders, who smiled gently, also looking around in wonder.

“The bank?” Allyson asked, glancing at the bookstore adjacent to her. “The money here is different. ‘Gringotts’, I think.”

“Yes, Gringotts the Goblin bank,” her mother nodded. Both Allyson and her parents had several expectations of the goblins. Muggle folklore had it that goblins were monstrous creatures. Temperamental, malicious, greedy and grotesque. Growing up with folklore and Greek stories, Allyson was understandably interested in the creatures that had more than once haunted her nightmares.

She pursed her lips in thought, before taking out the Hogwarts’ letter from her pocket. The Deputy Headmistress who had visited, Professor McGonagall, had explained that Wizards and witches used their own currency. If she recalled correctly you could only exchange currency at a Wizarding bank and Diagon Alley only had one.

After fiddling with the envelope, she found the small little map, which Professor McGonagall had quickly scribbled down on the back of her list of equipment, and turned it around until she was looking at it from the right angle (or so she hoped). 

“It should be further down the street.” She mumbled, before heading off in the direction she thought the bank should be. Her parents followed quickly, obviously afraid they would lose sight of the eleven-year-old.

Considering the crowded alley and the throng of people, it was difficult to navigate through the unfamiliar place. There were many odd shops and Allyson stopped more than once to glance at the window displays. There was an ice-cream shop where the ice appeared to be made by itself and a robe shop in which a pair of robes danced in the window shop; a mannequin bowing towards the several spectators. 

Had she been worried about finding the bank, that vanished the moment she noticed the building a few minutes later. Gringotts was, by far, the tallest multistoried building in the alley and gleamed almost invitingly in the soft summer sun. Yet, its intimidating old construction seemed to be quite out of place next to the obvious newer buildings around. Two small creatures, which must have been goblins, stood astride the burnished bronze doors, dressed in strange uniforms of scarlet and gold. 

Her exceptions were not fully met.

Although Allyson would never call a goblin handsome, they were certainly not as grotesque as the folklore stories made her believe. Both creatures were about three heads shorter than she was with cleverly pointed faces and long hands and feet.

When she and her parents passed, curiously peering down at them, they eyed the small family balefully. Yet, they did incline their heads slightly and opened the burnished bronze double-doors. Allyson ascended the stone lobby steps quickly and stepped into a small entrance Hall. The bank was silent, as it appeared most shoppers had yet to arrive or had already passed the bank. Allyson’s father pulled his wallet out of his breast pocket and glanced at one of the tiny creatures behind the counters. 

Setting up an account — she received a new golden key and happily showed it to her mother —took only thirty minutes, yet, her father acted so haughtily Allyson pretended she didn’t know him during the rest of visit. A Goblin named Anlok led them down the dim sloping hallways before being all but shoved into one of the carts that awaited them. Allyson hadn’t been to an amusement park before, but she suspected that the frigid air rush and the deep drop down through the twisting maze of passageways gave a similar feeling. The metal wheels of the cart shrieked ominously and her stomach did a somersault more than once before they arrived at a vault in the lowest part of the Bank. If Anlok was to believed it had the best security money could buy and her father looked smug for it. 

When they headed out onto the shopping street later that day, the sun had ascended fully into the sky, warm rays glinting off against the copper door. As they passed the double doors once again, Allyson noticed golden letters below a golden crest; ’Fortius Quo Fidelius’

“And what does it mean, love?” Her father asked, following his daughter’s eyes.

Cheeks turning pink, Allyson glowered at the tall man, while Catherine eased a non-existent wrinkle out of her long dress. A passenger gave them an amused look and seemed expectant of the answer and Allyson glared at the man with a scowl. 

“Allyson?”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Fidelius means something along the lines of faithful or loyal. And Fortius means strength. So ‘the more faithful, the stronger’ or ‘Strength through loyalty’ but it might as well be ‘loyalty makes us stronger’.” 

Mikeal smiled before sneering at the man. The stranger disappeared quickly and Allyson pursed her lips. Her father had a way of putting so much hostility into one look that people were easily unnerved by him. He also had a way with words.

“Bloody impudent—”

“Okay,” Catherine cut in, sending her husband an unamused look. “Let’s start our shopping before your father gets into one of his foolish fights by being a democratic political-incorrect-fool. What’s on the list, Allyson?”

“Erm, robes, a wand, books, obviously books and I think I also need Potions equipment,” Allyson answered. Despite it being afternoon, the shopping area was no less busy. If anything people seemed to be even more in a rush than before and ran about in all directions. Children, but also several adults, were still crowding around the shop windows. Allyson listened with slight curiosity as the merits of the different broom models and Quidditch teams — probably the sport McGonagall briefly told them about — were discussed. It always amazed her how fanatic people behaved when sports were discussed. A few shops further sold telescopes and old-fashioned measuring scales — although considering the Victorian way of dressing, she supposed they were not old-fashioned in the Wizarding world — and Allyson stopped before the shop window. A large leather-bound book with star maps was displayed just beside a large telescope and she watched with childish glee as the constellations winked at her. 

“—Allyson?”

“Huh?”

Her father gave her a miffed look before pointing at the robe shop. “We should handle your wardrobe first.”

“Right,” she admitted. It seemed logical that they’d deal with the most unpleasant task first. The bell above the door chimed when they stepped inside of Madam Malkin’s Robes For All Occasions. There was a long line in front of the small wooden stool in the back of the shop and Allyson frowned. Children of all ages stood huddled together and adults spoke in slow urgent whispers. 

Sucking her cheeks between her molars Allyson curled a lock of dark hair around her fingers and waited for her turn. Her mother easily lost herself between the folds of fabric. With her father standing next to her, she began examining the different robes and tried on several pointed heads to amuse him, while Allyson started a conversation with a boy two times her height.

Cedric Diggory was a pleasant, polite thirteen-year-old. His parents were both magical and he was a source of information. Just like a large part of the Wizarding world, he was a fan of Quidditch (also played it as a seeker) and Allyson was slightly amused with the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about it.

Allyson had always related to older children. Perhaps they were less inclined to hurt you like children her age were or perhaps it was because they had matured a bit more. Either way, the time passed far quicker than she’d expected.

“Ah,” Cedric said jovially, “it’s my turn. I’ll see you at Hogwarts?”

“Definitely,”

She watched him move towards the stool and leant against the wall. She now knew a bit more about Hogwarts and although she enjoyed Hufflepuff House’s description — patient, loyal and dedication — she didn’t think she was all that good with other people. It was worth considering, of course, and thanks to Cedric, she now somewhat understood the sorting process. He promised her it was nothing to worry about and she took his word for it.

It took thirty more minutes before it was Allyson’s turn and another fifteen minutes before her measurements were taken. Her father, being in a most tolerant mood, allowed her to pick out a regular robe from the shop. When they reentered the street it was almost four-thirty in the afternoon. 

“We still have to get my books, Potions and Herbology equipment and of course, a wand,” Allyson told her parents excitedly. Normally, she liked to be meticulous in her searches, but right now there was too much to see and to take in. She wanted to see what being a Witch would offer her. 

“It might be wise if we split up,” her mother decided, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her dark-blue dress.

“I suppose so,” Allyson admitted and looked at her father.

The man regarded his daughter and wife shrewdly for a long moment, before shaking his head: “I suppose that would be best. Hand me your list, Allyson, I’ll look for your potions supplies.” He looked extraordinarily displeased.

“In the meantime, we can find you a wand,” Allyson said heartily amused.

“Going for a wand shouldn’t take that long, I suppose,” Catherine agreed, absentmindedly running her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “And would I be terrible off; if I said you also wanted to browse through the books in that bookstore?”

The girl smiled. “I hoped I could.”

Her mother smiled indulgently and Allyson stretched up to her tiptoes, trying to catch sight of a wand shop. She found one, mere seconds later. If she hadn’t been looking for it, it would have gone unnoticed. It was shabby and the windows were just as dirty as the in ones in the Leaky Cauldron.

Ollivander’s: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC

Smiling at the older woman; mother and daughter entered the shop. The doorbell chimed and Allyson felt her heartbeat elevate. The store was small, dusty and dimly lit. There were countless narrow boxes stacked high up, covered with a fast layer of dust. A small wooden counter stood behind, but otherwise, the shop seemed vacant.

Allyson slowly inched further into the shop, shaking her head when dust was disturbed and fell on top of her. It seemed like Ollivander’s shop was not a very busy place. 

It took several more minutes before a frail old man with blue grey-eyes appeared from the back of the shop. He was only a few inches taller than Allyson, but his glassy eyes shone with a strong alertness. 

“Good afternoon,” he said, his voice soft and even, his eyes bulging with interest. 

“Good afternoon, sir,” she answered, her mother a few feet behind her. “I’m looking for a wand.”

“Well, you’re in the right place.” Mr Ollivander stepped around the counter, and stepped up to the young girl; his glassy eyes not blinking even once. “Muggle-born?” He asked, eyeing her appraisingly. Then in an instant, it was gone again. 

“Ah, yes,” Allyson answered, nodding. “Allyson Gilbert, nice to make your acquaintance.”

“Your wand arm?” He asked glancing at her right arm with a small crease between his eyebrows.

Allyson frowned, before holding out her right arm. “You mean if I am right or left handed?” she asked, as a tape measurer flew off the counter and began taking her measurements. Twisting her wrist, but without hurting her, the wand maker examined the pale blue veins pulsing softly on the back of her hand before turning to search through a pile of wands. Meanwhile, the measuring tape was measuring the space between her knee and her armpit, while her mother stared with a slacked jaw. 

“Every Ollivander wand has a core of powerful magical substance,” he began, the measuring tape by now around Allyson’s head. “We customarily use unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers and the heartstrings of dragons.” The wandmaker continued, before returning with a long box. “Chestnut wood and dragon heartstring, 13 inches.”

Allyson carefully picked the wand up, testing the weight into her hand.

“Well, try it out!” 

She gave the wand a blank look, before waving it. It shuddered but did nothing else. 

“No, no, not this one, definitely not this one!” Ollivander said, yanking the wand out of her hand and turned to fetch another one. Allyson gave her mother a dark look, who seemed to be heartedly amused.

“Cherry wood and unicorn tail, 11 inches. Very flexible.” He whispered softly, offering Allyson another box.

She reached forwards, but before she could even touch the smooth wood, the wand maker snatched the box away. Returning to the counter the man dusted his palms on the front of his robes and started to mutter under his breath and Allyson realised this would take a longer than she’d expected. 

The day had begun as sunny and delightful, but as the sun descended behind the buildings, dark grey clouds started to swindle through the dark blue sky. Threatening, they gathered, concealing the summer sun and plunging the shopping area into a foreboding shade of grey. Time had seemed to slow down as Allyson tried wand after wand, but none seemed to work quite right. She took yet another wand out of its deep scarlet box and gave it a wave. The vase on the counter shattered with a loud crack and the murky water dripped down the old worn wood. She was slowly starting to feel a bit desperate. What if that Deputy Headmistress made a mistake? Perhaps she was magical enough to make things happen, but what if she wasn’t magical enough to use a wand? 

“We’ll find one for you, don’t worry, dear.” Mr Ollivander explained with a kind smile, putting yet another wand back into its box. Allyson marvelled at how nothing seemed to bother the man. She had tried out at least a dozen wands and her eyelids were beginning to droop. 

“How come none of the wands works for me?” Allyson asked feeling slightly useless.

“The wand chooses the witch or wizard, Miss Gilbert, not the other way around.” Mr Ollivander answered as he clapped the lid on the box and packed the wand away with the rest. He stared up at the boxes and pursed his lips in thought. 

Allyson nodded, although he couldn’t see, and glanced at the broken vase. Water was still running down the side of the wooden counter and Catherine Gilbert stood up from her seat and made her way over towards her daughter; placing a comforting hand on Allyson’s shoulder. 

“It’s going to be fine, Sweetie,”

“Perhaps—” the wand maker suddenly started, rummaging through the counter. “But it is very old, not one of the cores I usually use—” he muttered and Allyson gave her mother another long look who shrugged in response. 

“There it is.” Mr Ollivander softly breathed. He turned an auburn coloured box in his hands. An even thicker layer of dust had accumulated on the lid than on the others and Allyson raised an eyebrow quizzically. How long had that one been here?

“I’ve had this in my possession for years.” Mr Ollivander explained, as if picking up on her thoughts. “My own father manufactured it and I wonder—”

He slowly opened the lid and Allyson peered inside. The wand was made from a dark greenish wood and instead of being completely smooth like she had come to expect, it was rough at the edges and twisted into a cylindrical shape. 

Carefully, Allyson slowly took it from the box. The wood warmed beneath her fingers and buzzed gently, magic sizzling against her bare skin. A warm sense of belonging travelled up her arm and she tightened her fingers around it. She gasped.

“Mulberry wood with Thunderbird tail feather, 11 inches. It’s very flexible.” The wandmaker explained. “Performs well in transfigurations and very powerful.” His eyes narrowed. “Yes, very powerful—”

Allyson nodded running her fingers over what would be her wand and smiled. It felt right and she carefully placed it back in the box, hugging it to her chest.

“May I ask something?”

“Of course,”

“The Professor that stopped at my house, told me I’d need a wand to contribute to Magical society. It’s just, what can I perform with one, that I can’t do without?”

The man considered her again. “What have you been able to do?”

A strange question if she ever heard one and she wasn’t sure how to answer it: “I’ve been aware of magic for a long time now. I can summon things and if the mood strikes me compel animals or even people to look at me favourably. I don’t really know how to answer it, really. Often, it’s stronger when I’m upset or when I feel another strong emotion, but it’s there too when I’m not.”

“It’s not accidental?”

“No,” Allyson shook her head. It was the same thing McGonagall had asked and although she had lost control before she certainly didn’t need to if she wanted something to happen. “Not really.”

“Wandless magic is a rare trait.” Ollivander mused. “Wands focus and strengthen a magical being’s core. Yet, there are always exceptions. You are very young and your magic has not matured yet. It’s often considered volatile and difficult to perform, but I suppose a lot is possible. A strong wand chose you after all.”

It was a most cryptic explanation if anything else, but Allyson supposed it was enough for now. The reluctance to use ‘Wandless magic’ was something she wanted to look into. It seemed somewhat strange to be only dependent on a wand. 

“How much?”

“Seven galleons please.”

Allyson felt Ollivander’s eyes long after she’d paid and stepped out onto the cobbled stones again. Perhaps, it had been an unwise decision to ask the man about a magic even her future teacher was cryptic about, but she had wanted to know. The shopping street was a lot less crowded and the dying sunlight peeked out between the clouds. 

“Did you have to?” Catherine asked when they were further down the street far enough away from the wand shop to not be seen anymore.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your question rattled him.”

Allyson sniffed. “If an innocent question about Wandless magic rattled him—”

“Dear God, you really are your father’s daughter.”

“Right, well, I still need my books,” Allyson said hugging her wand to her chest as if it was a newborn baby. 

Catherine clucked her tongue while glancing through the street. “Yes, and I need your father, as he has the rest of our money.”

As if on cue, her father emerged from the inn. His dark blond hair tousled and a small smile tugging at his lips. He was holding a cauldron in one hand and a bag filled with books in the other. 

“Dad?” Allyson asked feeling slightly put-out when she glanced at the books.

Noticing his daughter’s gaze, he shrugged. “It didn’t look as if you would be ready anytime soon, love. It seemed more adequate this way.”

Allyson stuck out her lower lip and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re so mean.” She mumbled, before glancing at another odd clothes store. Except for the fashion — which she admitted was very odd — she could see lime green robes which lighted up when the lights in the shop window extinguished. Although odd, she thought they were also extremely brilliant!

“Oh, Mikeal—” Catherine sighed, massaging her temple. 

“They’re about to close, Catherine.” he sighed. “I took some books out that weren’t on the list as well.”

“What kind of books?” Allyson asked immediately, curiosity evident in her voice.

“One called ‘Hogwarts a History’ and some more advanced spell books, I thought you might like." Her father answered, wrapping an arm around Allyson’s shoulders. “Listen kiddo, I know you like bookstores, but it was about to close.”

She sighed, giving the man a suspicious glare before nodding. “All right,” she sighed, linking her arm through her father’s. “Shall we go home?”

Smiling at his daughter he straightened his jacket. “I say we go somewhere to have dinner and call it a day.”

Allyson’s mother nodded absentmindedly and her father linked his arm through hers as well. Mikeal led them towards the wall and Allyson peered through the small gap in the wall just before it knitted itself back together behind them. Tom the bartender smiled at them, fiddling with a set of rusty keys, before letting them out of the little inn. They walked down the road, passed a busy, bubbling shopping centre and got back into their car. The way back home, Allyson stared at her wand wondering what amazing things she would be able to achieve with it. It would be great though, she was sure…

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two, Hogwarts

The sun slowly dipped behind the tall trees and the scenery flashed by in a blur. Rays of warm light filtered through the treetops in little dappled patches, chasing the shadows over the carpet. A lone shaft of sunlight filtered through the window before the train speeded through a mountain. For a moment the train was dipped into greyish darkness, but then the lights of the train turned on. 

Allyson sat up slowly. Long legs were tangled with hers and she carefully extracted her arm from under his. The boy was staring back at her. He was pale with silver-blond hair and grey-blue eyes. His face was marred with sharp angles and planes, but it didn’t necessarily make him ugly, although perhaps it made his chin a bit pointy. Other than herself, she’d never seen someone who was that pale and she felt the giddy feeling erupt to start laughing hysterically. 

Swallowing, she let her weight rest on her elbows and sat up. There was a slight ache in the back of her head and Allyson felt a wave of dizziness pass through her. 

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t avoid you,” a voice behind her muttered. 

Allyson held her head tightly into her hands, fingers curling into her dark hair. With great effort, she craned her neck to look around. He was older, hands fidgeting, face flushed with embarrassment. The other boys, his friends, laughed at his dismay and Allyson felt anger boil her blood. Shifting slightly, ignoring the warm liquid running down the side of her neck, she tried to think of something to say. She came up empty. 

“Perhaps, if you didn’t use the aisle as some kind of playground, you would have.” The blond boy sneered. Allyson couldn’t really concentrate on him, her head was hurting. The kid muttered something inaudible, before dashing away.

What a bloody coward. Wiping her head with her sleeve, her vision blurred at the edges and she felt him catch her by the shoulders before she could fall forward again. 

“Oh no,” he whispered urgently, “not again.” 

He shook her gently. The panic on his face slowly registering and slowly her mind started to clear and her vision sharpened. She looked at his face again and Allyson noticed his eyebrows twitch, fingers squeezing her shoulder harshly, nails digging into her flesh. Allyson winced slightly. 

“Stop staring and get her off me!” he suddenly snapped and then someone grabbed her under her elbows and hoisted her up. Off of the boy and on to her own feet. 

“Thanks, Goyle.” the boy said.

Allyson looked around warily. The boy who had lifted her up was twice as tall, had large feet and dull eyes. He had long gorilla arms, short, bristly hair low on his forehead and broad shoulders. His lips were pulled back into a sneer and he patted her awkwardly on her back. Her legs wobbled under the pressure.

“Erm, I’m sorry.” Allyson said, directing her attention back to the blond boy again. Feeling slightly dazed she pressed her sleeve against the bleeding gash just above her ear and beneath her thick hair.

He sighed, “Yeah, well, don’t let it happen again.” 

Cocking his head, he gave her a scrutinising look. Allyson fidgeted under the stare and slowly lowered her hand. Blood stained the hem of her sleeve and she tried to ignore the slight lightheaded feeling surging through her.

“I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.” The boy told her importantly, yet not unpleasantly. He offered her his hand which she shook almost absentmindedly. He seemed rather relieved she didn’t use her bloodied hand and she almost rolled her eyes. 

“Allyson Gilbert, nice to meet you.”

“Doesn’t sound familiar.” He muttered, echoing exactly what Ron had said. She was about to respond when another large boy interrupted them. 

“Malfoy, I found him. Around the corner, second compartment. The bushy-haired girl confirmed it.” He explained somewhat dully. Allyson had never seen such large boys before. The second boy was even larger than the other. He was also very fat, had a thick neck and gorilla-like arms. His nose was flat as if someone had tried to smash his face against the wall.

He glanced at her through mean beady little eyes and Allyson’s eyes narrowed. 

“Great!” Malfoy responded, his interest in her wading, “Have to go, Gilbert.” He said, somewhat dismissing her. He dashed past her, disappearing around the corner, his cronies — or bodyguards — following. Allyson watched them go with a dazed look. People in the Wizarding world were weird. 

“You okay?” a slightly familiar voice asked.

Allyson turned. Seeing one of the redheaded twin-boys from before. His head was cocked to the side and his eyebrows were scrunched together. She dapped at her face with her sleeve again and shrugged non-committal: “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Muggle-born, right?”

“Hm, yes.”

“You’re lucky—”

“Why?” 

“He said his surname was ‘Malfoy’, right?” 

Allyson nodded.

“They say,” he started, obviously struggling for the right words. “the Malfoys are— biased on Muggle-borns.”

“They?” Allyson asked. She was beginning to suspect that everyone in the Wizarding World was very opinionated. She wasn’t used to such blatant racism. Really, Voldemort had been a dictator, hoping to preserve a race — which was something that never went well —, yet that was ten years ago and now students were blaming other students for the sins of their fathers. Even going as far as claiming that an entire House filled with students was evil because one redheaded boy could name a few examples of people who’d followed the boogeyman. 

The Weasley boy in front of her waved his hand in the air by way of answering, but when Allyson didn’t comment he shrugged. “My dad works with his. He said Malfoy’s father looks down on everything muggle related.” 

Allyson nodded thoughtfully. Yes, very opinionated indeed. “He didn’t act that nasty but I wouldn’t really know.”

The older boy nodded. “Are you sure you’re all right? You have blood on your chin.”

“I’m fine, really. I just hit my head when I fell. I’ll live.” She explained, taking note of the slight sting. “I think I’ll return to my own compartment now. It was nice talking to you.” 

The boy smiled and winked before taking off in the opposite direction. 

She watched him leave before retreating her steps to her compartment. She would like a bit of subjective advice now. It was hard to make up your mind as to where to belong for the upcoming seven years when everyone had such strong opinions and based past mistakes on a House alone. She was feeling more conflicted than ever about her sorting. At first, when she read Hogwarts a History, she thought Slytherin didn’t sound all that bad. The House for the cunning and the ambitious…

Allyson was quite sure she was ambitious, as well as levelheaded and cunning when necessary. She knew she could be brave, yet rarely acted without consulting her brain. Only when really angered did she let herself go. She thought she was rather smart as well, but such things were difficult to decide for yourself. 

As she neared the compartment she had been in before, she thought about the other houses. Gryffindor sounded nice, but Allyson wasn’t sure if she was truly that brave. Being brave when on a high of adrenaline, didn’t seem the same as being really brave. She hadn’t been easily afraid at Muggle school and did things others wouldn’t dare, but the other children thought she had just been mean (and different). She sure as hell hadn’t let anyone tease or bully her.

With a slight grimace, she remembered a girl — Frieda Allyson thought she was called — who used to make fun of the way she dressed. Allyson remembered that she had climbed on the climbing rack and this girl had tried to push her off. Tried being the keyword, because Allyson made her fall. She didn’t lift a finger, didn’t have to lift a finger but the girl tumbled down and broke her collar bone in two places.

It was the first time she had any tangible proof that she could do things, just with her mind. And in her seven-year-old mind, Allyson had preened under the knowledge that no one, absolutely no one, would believe it was her fault either. 

A loud yell broke her out of her musings. She was standing in front of her compartment, hand uselessly hovering above the knob. Allyson saw the shape of a boy step closer to the compartment door through the glass and she pressed herself swiftly against the opposite wall. The compartment door swung open and a flash of blond caught her attention. Draco Malfoy stalked out of the compartment and strode passed her, a dark look on his face and his two cronies — one clutching his hand to his chest — were following closely behind. Momentarily stunned, she just watched the three boys hurry away. 

“Bloody hell, I think they killed him!” Ron’s voice reached her ears.

‘Killed?’ Allyson shook her head and entered the boys’ compartment. Candy was strewn across the floor and Ron Weasley was crouched down, holding his rat, dangling by his tail.

Frowning, she cocked her head. “Did something explode in here?” she asked surprised.

“Unbelievable!” Ron suddenly shouted, making Allyson jump. “He’s gone back to sleep! Again! Stupid thing!” he muttered under his breath and started to shove the animal into his pocket. She blinked stupidly before looking at Harry.

“Don’t ask, really, it isn’t worth it.” He muttered giving Ron an apprehensive glance. His eyebrows furrowed together. “What happened to your face?”

“A boy ran into me,” she said. “I hit my head and fell to the floor.”

“Oh, okay.”

Allyson shrugged before picking her book up again from the couch. She sat back down in the window seat across from Harry and set her book down on her lap. She discretely glanced around the room again. The floor was littered with candy wrappers, half-eaten candy and someone’s jacket had gotten stuck under the trash bin. What in the world had happened in the ten minutes she’d been away?

Allyson had just found the sentence she’d been reading when the compartment door slid open again. The girl with the frizzy hair and the big front teeth strode in. Her eyes flitted through the compartment before lingering on Harry and Ron. 

“What has been going on?” she demanded, looking at the candy wrappers with a frown. Her gaze shifted to Ron and her eyes hardened. Allyson stifled her laughter: Ron Weasley did not make good first impressions. 

“You guys weren’t in a fight were you?” She asked imperiously.

“No, we weren’t,” Ron corrected, glowering at her as if her mere presence alone was insulting him. “Scabbers was.” 

Allyson cocked an eyebrow and looked at Harry again. He shrugged before mouthing: ‘I’ll tell you later’. She nodded carefully. Ron gave the girl one last withering look before shifting his attention back to Harry: “How is it you already knew Malfoy, Harry?”

‘Malfoy…’ 

She felt a thrill of something slip between the notches of her spine. Her hand stilling above the pages of her book and she exhaled softly. Many of the late Slytherins had been part of the madman’s supposed army and she suspected that the Malfoy fellow probably had an uncle or even a father who was a Slytherin and had been in the madman’s army. Explained why Ron got all hot and bothered about it. 

“I met him at Diagon Ally,” Harry explained, waving his hand absently through the air. “He was very, what’s the right word, unpleasant.”

“I’ve heard of their family,” Ron began darkly, face flushing red. “They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-know-who disappeared. Said they’d been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. Says Malfoy's father didn’t need a reason to go over to the dark side.”

‘Bingo!’ 

Allyson mauled over his words and started massaging the knots in her neck and shoulders. “Someone’s word just doesn’t add up to bodily evidence, I suppose.” She said, pulling her bag out from under her seat. Absentmindedly playing with the straps, she sighed. The ‘Dark side’ the voice in her head echoed. Witches and wizards surely had a funny way of describing Voldemort’s followers. According to her father ‘war’ wasn’t anything but a dark side. You might think you fight for the right side. But ‘right’ very much depended on your point of view. Add to that the ones who won that same war. Winning a war only applauded the winners, not the losers. The difference between right and wrong was subjective. Allyson shivered. She was glad they looked at right and wrong the way they did now…

She glanced at Ron through half-lidded eyes. She didn’t think it was wise to repeat those thoughts into words, so she shrugged her vest off and pulled her robe on. Combined with the black skirt and her plain white t-shirt, it would do fine.

“Can we help you?” Ron asked, turning towards the door. 

Allyson looked up questingly. She followed his line of vision to the bushy haired girl. Her amber eyes zeroed in on Harry’s scar, just visible beneath Harry’s black fringe. She seemed to be comfortable, leaning against the door post. Looking up, like a deer caught in the headlight, she shook her head.

“All right, I’m only in here because people are behaving childishly in the halls, running up and down with no care for anything.” She explained.

“Oh, she’s right,” Allyson nodded, holding her fingers between the pages of her book. “I told you that someone ran into me, didn’t I?” 

“Right,” Ron muttered turning to the girl again. “Would you mind leaving while we change?” 

“Right,” Granger muttered, sniffing defensively, “I’ve been to the front to ask the driver and he says we’re almost there.”

Allyson nodded. This girl was rather bossy. Ron trembled, his face flushing a dark red that was anything but flattering and Harry frowned.

“All right, thank you,” Allyson said, interrupting Ron’s before he could say anything.

Looking around again, the bushy-haired girl frowned. Twisting the hem of her robe between her fingers, she glared at Ron. They weren’t getting on, that was for sure.“You really haven’t been fighting, have you?” the girl said, her demeanour resembling that of a teacher. “Otherwise, you guys will be into trouble before the school year has even started.”

“We didn’t fight, Scabbers did, I told you!” Ron said icily. “And could you leave now? I’m not going to change in front of you!”

“Fine, fine,” the girl huffed impatiently, glancing at the rat which was peeking his head out of Ron’s breast pocket with a look that said; ‘Yeah, right—’. 

Ron didn’t acknowledge her words and glared her way. The girl bristled, pointing a trembling finger at his face. “And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?” she sniffed haughtily before she spun on her heel, and went out. 

Ron looked furiously after her. The compartment door slid closed with a sharp thud and Ron proceeded in muttering profanities under his breath. 

“What was that all about?” Allyson said, looking at the boys not entirely capable to stifle her laughter. “Honestly Ron, what did you do to her? She looked ready to bite your head off.”

“I didn’t do anything! That is a show-off. She came in asking for Neville’s frog. Bossing us around like she owns us, who does she think she is?” Ron huffed, his face going purple. 

Harry shrugged, “She wasn’t so bad. She is just a bit of a Know-it-all.”

Allyson nodded and curled her legs up under her. “I see, go ahead and change. I’ll be reading my book.”

They both nodded and she ignored the soft sounds of them rummaging through their trunks. She didn’t care much for Ron’s flushed face when he fell over his own feet in his haste to get dressed and her eyes never strayed from her pages long.

Aconite  
There are over 250 species of Aconitum and all of them highly toxic, yet they were used in medicine such as pain-reliever, diuretic, heart sedative and to induce one’s sweating. From these species, Wild Aconite is the most well known. Wild Aconitine, also known as wolfsbane and Monkshood, is most common in Scotland. 

The Flowers of the Aconitine plant are useful in Potion-making, but the leaves are highly toxic. It is most commonly known as an ingredient of the Wolfsbane Potion (page 367).

When darkness seeped into the sky and the lights above her head flickered to life she shut her book with a thud and glanced outside. Allyson had most of the remaining time of the journey staring out of the window until she started to feel restless. Although it had been interesting to watch the countryside and the neatly moulded lawns turn into forests, she was hoping she would soon arrive. The ground outside stretched down in a slopping manner until it collided with the churning of the sea. Allyson remembered McGonagall telling her and her parents Hogwarts was located in the mountains. 

The skyline had dipped into a dark orange hue, twilight creeping over the lands and chasing the fast retreating lights of the day. With the sun setting the sky seemed to blaze with a lazy fire, while ink-black darkness crept up from the eastern horizon. When Allyson was younger she’d loved sunsets. The bold spectrum of colour in contrast with the darkened clouds made everything look magical. Even now; seeing the colourful sky made her feel safe and happy. The boys had fallen into a blissful silence and all three of them looked at the sun as it glided across the horizon.  
As an inky black sky appeared, decorated with countless stars, a voice echoed through the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

“Finally,” Allyson whispered.

“There it is!” Harry exclaimed suddenly and the three of them shifted closer to the window. 

She exhaled loudly, it was immense, but before her over-productive mind could store details away, they seemed to descend a mountain and the view disappeared. 

“What about those?” Allyson asked, looking down at the candy-covered floor. Her mouth was drying with the nervousness slowly taking over her senses. The boys didn't look any better. They were both pale as they started to push the sweets into their pockets. 

Allyson put her book away in her rucksack and jerked to a standing position. She gave her trunk one last lingering glance — not really sure how she felt about leaving her belongings behind — and swiftly opened the compartment door. She was actually glad she didn’t have a trunk to drag behind her through the train when it was this crowded. With everyone moving to the exit she had to hug her rucksack to her chest to avoid getting trampled on or run over by, by older students. Everyone seemed very eager to get out of the constricted area and as the train came to a halt in front of a tiny platform, students started to push outside. Allyson and Harry watched in awe as Ron elbowed his way to the exit. Being tall, even for the average fourteen-year-old — taller than his two twin brothers — he could use his height as leverage. They hurried after him and Allyson exhaled loudly when she stepped out on to the tiny, dark platform.

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: what I want to accomplish a background for Allyson as well as to establish a character. In the first version of this story, I don’t think I included enough depth and all the grace an eleven-year-old possesses in it either so, I am trying very hard on this one. 
> 
> Let me know what you think. Good or bad. Was there something you liked or not? I’d love to know.


	4. The Sorting Hat

The air was cold and humid as the students poured out into the cool night air. The stones beneath her feet were damp and Allyson shivered. She was glancing around and tried to orientate herself when a lamp came bobbing over their heads. The haze of golden light around it threw into clear view a large and tall body. He had a long mane of shaggy black hair and a beard that covered most of his face. The man’s hands were as big as dustbin lids and his feet in their boots the size of baby dolphins. He had dark eyes that glinted like black beetles and was at least twice as tall and three times as wide than the average man.

“That’s Hagrid,” Harry whispered and she nodded breathlessly. 

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” Hagrid bellowed before spotting Harry: “Hello there, Harry.” 

Harry waved curtly and they started to move towards the large man. Hagrid watched over the sea of heads as the first-years gathered around her. Allyson noticed older students making their way up away from the platform.

“Hagrid is the one who came to get me from the Dursleys,” Harry said and Allyson nodded in understanding. 

“I see,” she answered. “I’m sure that went over well…”

“Oh it did,” Harry nodded, grinning. “It didn’t. Uncle Vernon almost got a heart attack and Aunt Petunia’s face turned almost as red as Ron’s hair.”

She chuckled. “That makes a nice picture.”

“The best picture was when Hagrid used his pink umbrella and magicked Dudley a pig’s tail,” Harry told her smiling brightly. “And I shouldn’t have told you that. I promised Hagrid that I wouldn’t, he’s not allowed to, I—” 

“It’s okay,” Allyson whispered. “I won’t breathe a word.”

“Come along, follow me — are there any more firs’ years?” the giant cried. When no one answered he turned and went in the opposite direction taken by the older students. Slipping and stumbling the first-years had to jog to keep up with Hagrid’s fast pace. They were following, what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them, that Allyson deducted they must be surrounded by a large copse of trees. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice. She wondered absentmindedly if he’d found it… 

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, and Allyson smiled, “just round this bend here.”

There was a loud “Oooooh!” 

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Allyson’s eyes widened as the sight was even more breathtaking than from the train window. On the other side of the lake, pressed atop a high mountain stood an enormous castle, with numerous towers and turrets. The hundreds of windows lit up the distant sky like stars in the night sky, while the light was reflected off the still waters of the huge lake. Almost slipping over the mossy shore she noticed a float of little boats.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called and he pointed at the boats.

Harry was the first to jump in. Ron followed, eyeing the cold, dark water with distaste and carefully clambered onto the boat. Allyson hugged her outer robes more closely around her prone body and allowed Harry to help her into the boat. Dean Thomas, who was even taller than Ron clambered after them and shook Allyson’s hand reverently. 

“Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. “Right then, FORWARD!”

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. The evening was a little cold and misty but Allyson inhaled deeply, enjoying the calm and silence. 

“Heads down!” Hagrid yelled suddenly, as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which apparently took them right underneath the castle until they reached a kind of underground harbour. The boats moored themselves and they clambered out onto the rocks and pebbles. 

Hagrid led the way up a steep path, across a bridge and up a flight of stone steps, hidden in the rock, and they crowded around a huge, oak front door. 

“Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Hagrid asked Neville, who nodded. 

Then he raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. The doors swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch, in emerald green robes, answered. Allyson immediately recognised her as the witch, who had visited her and her parents to explain about Hogwarts.

“This, firsts’, is Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid said.

“Thank you Hagrid, I’ll take them from here.” the tall woman said, before pulling the door wide. She led the new students into the castle. The walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling so incredibly high, Allyson had to strain her neck to look all the way up and a magnificent marble staircase was facing them, leading to the upper floors.

Professor McGonagall led them to a little room, near the double doors leading to what Allyson suspected was the dining room. Allyson could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right. The rest of the school must have already arrived and the young girl wondered what they were going to have to do to get sorted. When Professor McGonagall had visited her she had explained they were in the possession of some sort of magical artefact that ‘looked inside you’ and it would choose the house that would benefit you the most. It didn’t sound like they had to do a lot of spell-work to accomplish a spot in a House, yet she couldn’t be sure. 

“Welcome at Hogwarts, all of you.” Professor McGonagall said, her voice quiet yet it carried across the room effortlessly. “In a bit, the banquet will start, but before you join, you’ll have to be sorted into one of the four houses. During your stay, your house will act as your family. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. All houses have their own noble history with their own witches and wizards. You can earn points for your house, but beware, when you break the rules, points can be deducted. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.” 

A soft murmur travelled through the crowd and several anxious students speculated what House they would be sorted in. McGonagall indulged them for a moment before continuing: “The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

“Professor McGonagall?” Allyson asked.

The woman raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Yes, Miss Gilbert?”

“After we’re sorted how do we obtain the attributes we need for our Houses?” she asked pointing at her plain black robes. 

Professor McGonagall smiled. “Very good question, Miss Gilbert.” Allyson felt her lips quirk. When she met McGonagall she had a lot of good questions. “All of you might have noticed the plain uniforms. After you’re sorted, House related neckties wait for you at your dorms and the Hogwarts crests will change into House crests.”

Allyson nodded and McGonagall let her eyes flit over the other students. Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron, who still had a smooch on his nose. Allyson saw Harry nervously trying to flatten his unruly hair; a fruitless task, if you asked her.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.” 

McGonagall gave them all a stern look, nervous faces staring back, before departing through a small doorway to the side of the chamber.

The students murmured excitedly. Allyson momentarily observed the nervousness in those around her and listened absentmindedly to all of their speculations. Whispered rumours went around on what they’d have to do, but none of them made much sense. 

She’d never liked rumours much. Rumours were made up. Rumours hurt people. Changed people. She didn’t like them. She didn’t like being lied to. Therefore, Allyson kept quiet. It couldn’t be that bad. The only thing that really worried her was which House she would be in. She glanced around to eagerly, ignoring the slight churning of her stomach and observed the nervousness that manifested in all around her again. 

“—Allyson?”

“Hm,” she shook her head, concentration broken by a voice from next to her.

“What do you think we have to do?”

“Je ne sais pas,” she answered and rolled her eyes theatrically when Ron scrunched his eyebrows. “I don’t know, can’t be that bad. Professor McGonagall said something about a magical artefact. I expect some sort of future career evaluation test, but then for magical Houses.”

“A what now?” Ron asked.

“You know some kind of survey that you can take when you want to know which job you are the most compatible with. But, well obviously, it’s not for jobs, but for Houses now.”

“Makes sense,” Harry admitted. “If we really had to battle a troll, I don’t think so many students would have been left to teach.”

Several students around them nodded. Two boys gave her a thankful nod, quite pleased with her logic and then the doors to their right opened. Professor McGonagall returned and they were lead into the ‘Great hall’. The first thing Allyson noticed was how bright the Great Hall was. It was illuminated by thousands and thousands of candles, floating in midair over four long tables; where the rest of the students were sitting. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. The older students were smiling down at the throng of first-years hovering at the door opening and with some coaching from the Head of Gryffindor House, slowly filled into the dining room.

At the end of the hall, there was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall beckoned the first years to follow her up there. Allyson looked up, itching to see the bewitched ceiling, which she knew would show the sky. At the moment it was pitch dark, decorated with thousands of stars.

“I’ve read about that in ‘Hogwarts, a history’,” the bushy haired girl — Hermione Granger according to Harry — explained, “it is bewitched to look like the sky outside.” Neville followed her gaze, but his eyes were unfocused.

Ron rolled his eyes and made a face, sneering at Granger’s back. Allyson shook her head, before leaning up to him and whispered: “She’s right you know.”

“Shut up.” He huffed, shoving her lightly. Her nerves were slightly distinguished. 

Professor McGonagall walked up to the teachers’ table, took a thick roll of parchment from the table and proceeded to a small stool standing alone on the dais in front of the teachers’ table; so all students could see. 

On the stool, she softly placed an old pointy brown leather wizard hat. The first-years all crowded around the stool and some stood on their tiptoes, to look at the stuffy old thing. Allyson noticed they were not the only ones. The rest of the students and also the teachers were glancing down at the Hat with something akin of expectation on their face. She wasn’t sure what they were expecting. 

A rip near the brim opened wide like a gaping mouth, and, to Allyson’s surprise, the Hat started to sing:

Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I’ll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter Hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There’s nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can’t see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindor’s apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you have a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You’ll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
so put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You’re in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I’m a Thinking Cap!

The song, despite the somewhat cringe-worthy heights, was met by the whole hall bursting into applause. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became still again. Allyson pursed her lips thinking about the virtues of the four Houses the Hat sang about. Ron’s face had turned red. She frowned at his furious face and shared a look with Harry.

“So we only have to put the hat up?” Ron whispered to Harry and Allyson. “I’m going to kill Fred! He said we had to fight a troll!” 

“Siblings,” she retorted as if that said it all and Ron nodded furiously. She glanced at the stool again. Why did they have to do this in front of everyone? Why not in a broom closet? She would have liked the anonymity much more. 

“When I call your name, you come to the stool in the front and you’ll be sorted,” McGonagall said, holding a scroll in her hand. 

“Abbott, Hannah!”

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line, put on the Hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause—

“HUFFLEPUFF.” shouted the Hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at her new House table. A ghost waved merrily at her.

“Bones, Susan!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!” the Hat shouted again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah. 

“Booth, Terry!” A pleasant looking boy, a bit taller than Allyson, with very large brown eyes and a round face, walked up to the stool. He had close-cropped light brown hair that suited him nicely.

“RAVENCLAW!”

Various students of the Ravenclaw table stood up and two of them shook the young boy’s hand. As the sorting continued the first years thinned out. Allyson looked around, trying to memorise the faces of the new students, yet failing a bit. McGonagall was still calling out names for people to be sorted. ‘Bulstrode Millicent’ became the first to be sorted in Slytherin and the table on the far right cheered as she crossed the hall over to them.   
Allyson started to feel rather worried now. She remembered that when she still attended Muggle school she was always picked last during sports. She didn’t care back then, but now, when they were about to pick her house. She curled her fingers into fists.

‘Brown, Lavender’, went to Gryffindor and Allyson stuck her hands into her pockets. Feeling eyes on her, she looked over her shoulder staring straight in the face of Draco Malfoy. His eyebrow slightly furrowed. He looked at her as if he was trying to solve an enigma. 

“Gilbert, Allyson!”

She gulped. Harry squeezed her shoulder sympathetically before she slowly crossed the hall and walked up to the stool. The last thing she saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was a large hall full of people curiously peering at her. She was slightly curious how it was that the world went black but then a voice echoed around her head.

‘Nervous, young one?’ a voice in her ear said. Fighting the urge to jump, she nodded numbly. She didn’t wish to look like a fool, but it felt rather weird.

‘A fine set of brains. Familiar magic in your blood.’ She furrowed her brows. Familiar?

‘Ah yes, you remind me of a boy, two decades ago. A young Slytherin.’

A Slytherin, so Slytherin? She thought. Well, I suppose I could work with that. 

‘Yes, I feel a strong sense of ambition. A nice set of brains, quite intelligent, loyal, not very challenged at your first school, were you? Well, we’re about to change that.’

So Ravenclaw? 

‘Perhaps,’ the Hat mused and she frowned.

Allyson heard the murmurs around her rise. She was taking longer than the average student. 

‘Well, you’re a difficult customer. I see potential, but not just in one house. Not Hufflepuff though, you might be a hard worker, yet you refuse to work as a team.’

Allyson frowned at that. She had always worked alone on projects in classes, but on the other hand, not many people wanted to work with her. Too many weird things happened around her. Then there was the strong notion that she simply did things better on her own.

‘No, you never had a reason to work as a team. They weren’t very pleasant to you, were they?’

Not really…

‘Well, at least try to remember not to hurt the people around you when you’re here. They don’t take lightly to it.’

Wasn’t planning on it. 

The echo of laughter reverberated through her head and she squeezed her eyes shut. The hat went silent for a moment. Other than the student body, the only sound she could decipher, was the sound of her heartbeat, echoing loudly into her ears.

“Yes, that will do…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: chapter three. I'm very busy with school right now, but I promise more updates will come soon. As for the House Allyson was placed in, I didn't do that because I liked one house the best. I placed her in the one Pottermore gave me after I did a test on it (trying to give only answers the way Allyson would) and that's what they came up with. Of course 'that' will be revealed the next chapter^^
> 
> Anyway, leave a review and let me know what you'll think!


	5. The Banket

The Hat fell momentarily silent, while the murmurs in the Great Hall rose. Curling her toes in her shoes, Allyson tried to remember how many people had already been sorted. Numbers had always calmed her in a way other things hadn’t. The Hat kept silent for a moment longer before:

“GRYFFINDOR!” 

She slowly pulled the Hat off, feeling slightly dazed and smiled at Professor McGonagall. Slowly, she put the Hat back on the stool and walked up to the Gryffindor table amidst loud applause. From his place by the Head Table, Headmaster Dumbledore was clapping politely with a carefree smile on his face and several other teachers were too. 

She smiled awkwardly when students started to shake her hand and felt her mind reel when she heard so many names, which she would not remember at all in the next morning. She sat down next to another first year; Chrissy Golding who patted her back and reassured her that Gryffindor was the best. The muscles in her cheeks felt already strained and with an awkward smile, she turned back to watch the rest of the sorting.

“Granger, Hermione!”

The bushy-haired girl ran up to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. She could see Ron mutter something, and could almost imagine him praying the girl would not be sorted into Gryffindor. The Hat took its time; Granger’s mouth pursed and Allyson realised she might have been arguing with it. After a few minutes the Hat raised itself upon the girl’s head; the flap opening:

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Ron looked devastated, his head falling back on his shoulders in defeat. Allyson almost laughed. Under a smattering of applause, Hermione Granger jumped up and practically ran to the Gryffindor table before stuffing herself between the first year, Amy Geagen, and an upper year, who’s name Allyson no longer remembered. The brunette nodded happily at Allyson and Allyson smiled back before turning her attention back to the sorting. 

The remaining first years were anxiously rubbing their hands together in the middle of the hall. Harry Potter had clapped for her enthusiastically but now he looked troubled. He and Ron Weasley were almost numbly looking at the sorting. 

Allyson tried to concentrate on the last students getting sorted, but it was hard to concentrate on it when Hermione Granger started chattering nervously to Amy Geagen. She seemed the type to babble when she was nervous. Allyson tore her gaze away and glanced at McGonagall.

“Longbottom, Neville!” 

The chubby boy who kept losing his toad almost fell over his own feet on the way towards the stool and the Hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”, Neville was so excited, he jerked up and ran off towards the Gryffindor table, while still wearing the Hat. Amid gales of laughter, he had to jog back to give the Hat to “Morag MacDougal”, who was sorted into Ravenclaw.

“Malfoy, Draco” was next. He swaggered rather nonchalantly up to the stool. The Hat hardly touched his head, before it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

Looking very pleased; his smirk gleeful and his strut confident, he sauntered over and slipped down between the gorillas; Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table. There weren’t many students left. “Moon”… “Nott”… “Park”… A pair of twin girls, “Patil” and “Patil”… “Perks”… And then—

“Potter, Harry!”

As Harry stepped forward, loud whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall. Their voices filtering over the students' heads: 

“Did she say, Potter?”

“THE Harry Potter?”

Students all around Allyson got to their feet to get a better view, craning their necks, their faces turned towards the stool. Allyson sighed, as Harry sat down. His jaw was set and his shoulders tense. It must be hard to be famous for something you didn’t even remember doing. Harry’s emerald eyes were blocked immediately from view when Professor McGonagall dropped the Hat on his head. The Hat was silent for some time. Allyson noticed Harry’s hands grip at the edges of the stool; his knuckles turned white. It looked as if he was arguing with the hat as well.

Professor McGonagall eyed the back of Harry’s head owlishly. Her lips forming a thin white line as she pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“GRYFFINDOR!” 

Harry took off the Hat and walked shakily towards the Gryffindor table. He was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the prefect stood up to shake Harry’s hand and the Weasley twins started yelling, “We got Potter! We got Potter!”

Harry sat down next to Allyson, who patted him on the back as Chrissy had done. “There you go; sorted and all.”

Harry gave her a small smile and sighed. 

He looked around and his gaze lingered on the High Table, where the teachers were seated. Allyson followed his gaze. At the nearest end of the table sat Hagrid, who gave him the thumbs-up. Allyson softly chuckled and brought her gaze back to the sorting. There were only three people left.

“Turpin, Lisa” was a Ravenclaw, and then it was Ron’s turn. The boy was pale and a green tinge started at his neck and ascended to his cheeks. Staggered up to the stool, he almost collapsed on top of it and pulled the Hat on. It didn’t take long:

“GRYFFINDOR!”

They watched as the, now, white-faced boy made his way to the table. He slumped down next to Harry’s other side, without a word. His brother Percy the Prefect arched over them to Ron while pompously saying, “Good work, Ron. Excellent work.”

At the same time “Zabini, Blaise” got sorted, and waddled over towards the Slytherin table. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. The murmurs around them were deafening and Allyson glanced around the Hall again. In the middle of the large High Table sat an elderly wizard with long, silvery hair. Professor McGonagall took a seat next to him and she nodded. 

“Welcome!” He said, slowly getting up to his feet. Arms opened wide as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see the students all together and he cleared his throat. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”

Everyone clapped and cheered, while he sat down again. Allyson furrowed her eyebrows. “Is that?”

“That’s Headmaster Albus Dumbledore,” Angela Johnson, who had brown eyes and long black hair, said. 

“I see,” Allyson answered glancing at the High Table again.

“Is he— a bit mad?” Harry asked from beside her and Allyson pursed her lips thoughtfully. She didn’t know whether to laugh or not. 

“Mad?” Prefect Percy asked airily. Allyson snickered while Ron imitated his brother’s face, not that Percy was realising. “Great mind! Greatest wizard of all time! But yes, I suppose he is a bit off his rocker.” Offering them a plate with potatoes, he smiled politely. “Potatoes, Harry?”

Barely unable to contain her excitement she starting to fill her plate. She had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table before. There was roast beef, pork chops, lamb chops and roast chicken in hand reach, but there was so much more. 

“That looks really delicious!” A voice behind her suddenly asked.

Allyson chocked on her roasted chicken before turning to the voice. Harry had been in the middle of chopping his beef into small pieces and glanced carefully at the hovering transparent ghost behind him. He was wearing a Victorian sort of coat with a lace collar and a sad smile onto his gaunt face.

Harry swallowed: “And you can’t —”

“I haven’t eaten in almost five hundred years.” The ghost said. “It’s not like I needed it, of course, but I do miss it.” He gave a last longing glance at the many plates filled with food. “May I introduce myself, I’m Sir Nicolas de Mimsy-Porpington, at your service. I’m the resident ghost of Gryffindor tower.” 

“I know who you are!” Ron said suddenly, a half-eaten potato falling from his fork. “My brother told me about you— You’re Nearly Headless Nick!”

“Honestly, I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicolas de Mimsy—” the ghost began stiffly, but he was interrupted by a sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan.

“Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?”

Sir Nicolas looked rather miffed, obviously not happy with the course of their conversation. “Well, like this,” he said irritably. He grabbed himself by his left ear and pulled. His head flicked aside and fell on his shoulder as if it was only attached to one single hinge. Allyson’s mouth fell open. It did indeed look as if someone had tried to behead him, but hadn’t quite managed. 

Nearly Headless Nick seemed to take pleasure out of their stunned faces. He threw his head back up and coughed a few times before he said: “So— new Gryffindors! I hope you’re going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindor has never failed to win so long. Slytherin got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron is becoming almost unbearable lately — that’s the ghost of Slytherin!”

Allyson looked over her shoulder at the Slytherin table and saw a horribly disfigured ghost, with blank, staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood sitting one seat away from Draco Malfoy. The pale boy didn’t look too pleased with his table mate either.

“Where did the blood come from?” Seamus asked. 

“I’ve never asked,” said Sir Nicolas delicately.

Allyson resumed with her dinner. She took several forkfuls of salad and a long drink of her tea as twin brothers Fred and George talked about the school, about Filch and about the moving staircases. The food was all delicious and even though the twins were sometimes difficult to follow their information was valuable. When deserts appeared she was already content and sleepily lounged in her seat, nursing a cup of Earl Gray tea. She held her teacup nonchalantly and tried to pay attention to the others.

“I’m a half muggle, half wizard,” Seamus explained. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mam didn’t tell him she was a witch ’til after they married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.”

“One can only imagine,” Allyson retorted, sipping her tea. 

Seamus grinned and she rubbed at her burning eyes. He smiled cheekily at Neville, who in turn paled. “And you Neville?” 

“Tired too?" Harry whispered incoherently, as Neville launched in a story about being thrown out of the window and how that was his first bit of magic. 

“Yeah,” she opened one eye. Harry gave her a quick smile, before he looked away; towards the High Table. Allyson didn’t really understand what was so interesting about the teachers, but then again she couldn’t focus enough to make a distinction between the people at the table either way.

It happened suddenly. Harry jumped up, clapping a hand to this head. Allyson gasped, as his knee painfully collided with her femur. Curling her leg up under her, Allyson gave her friend a worried look.

“What is it?” Percy asked, looking up from his apple pie.

“N-nothing.” Harry stuttered, still massaging his forehead. His face had paled and his pupils were dilated.

“Who’s the teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” He asked tersely. 

Allyson followed Harry’s line of vision back to the teachers’ table, fully awake yet again. The adults were conversing silently with each other, unaware of the stares they were receiving. Albus Dumbledore sat in the middle of the table; his fingers curled around the stem of his wine goblet. His head was turned away from the students, as he spoke quietly to Professor McGonagall, sitting at his right side. At his left side sat a very small wizard who must have been sitting on quite a high chair in order to reach the tabletop. Her gaze lingered on a strange looking man with a purple turban seated next to a man with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. Both teachers seemed to be deeply engrossed in their conversation. 

The hook-nosed teacher had an unreadable expression on his face.

“Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he looks so nervous, that’s Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House. He’s the Potions Master — though everyone knows, he wants Quirrell’s job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Professor Snape does.” Percy explained.

“I see,”

“Why?” Allyson asked.

Harry smiled reassuringly to Allyson. “It’s nothing, really I’m fine.”

Allyson nodded slowly. “If you say so…”

When the dinner plates disappeared Professor Dumbledore got to his feet, effortless taking up the attention from the complete Great Hall. The murmuring voices fell silent and Dumbledore smiled welcoming. “Ahem— just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils, but a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of Fred and George.

Hermione Granger inhaled sharply; her hand inching towards the bag she insisted on having on her lap. “The forest is forbidden…” she muttered softly to herself.

“I have also been asked by Mister Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.” Dumbledore continued. “Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house team should contact Madam Hooch.”

Ron gave a long painful sigh, which was met with an annoyed stare from Hermione Granger and a lifted eyebrow from Allyson. She had heard about Quidditch, played with four balls and on flying brooms. She had heard enough about the sport to know it wasn’t for her. If it wasn’t tennis or sailing she didn’t care much.

“Ron?”

“First years are not allowed to play Quidditch,” Ron explained gloomily and Harry shrugged.

“Right,” Allyson mumbled. “We are not allowed to play the game on brooms ten feet into the air. I’m sure I’m devastated.” 

He stuck his tongue out and Allyson grinned. 

“And finally,” Dumbledore’s voice echoed through the Hall again. “I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Allyson scrunched her eyebrows, and a few other students laughed. ‘Was that man for real?’

“He’s not serious, is he?” Harry asked and Percy the prefect smiled tightly. 

“Must be,” Percy said with a miffed expression. “That’s odd, he usually gives an explanation for new rules. He didn’t even bother to tell the prefects about this.” He continued, seemingly peeved he wasn’t told beforehand.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” Dumbledore cried. Allyson almost let out a laugh, this man reminded her of her crazy mathematics teacher in Germany. When she looked at other teachers, she noticed that their smiles became rather fixed. ‘Yep, definitely, like her maths teacher!’ 

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick as if he were trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

The cacophony was deafening as the entire school bellowed:

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something, please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now, they’re bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we’ve forgotten,  
Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot.

Everyone finished the song at a different time. At last, only Fred and George were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they finished, he was one of those who clapped the loudest.

“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic, beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime! Off you trot!”

The whole hall seemed to come alive. All the houses went to their dorm rooms. The first-years being led by their House prefects. The Gryffindor first-years followed Percy Weasley through the chattering crowd; out of the Great hall, and up the marble staircase. Turning right and left; through the labyrinthine passages, up the maze of stairs to finally appear onto the 7th-floor corridor. They came to a halt in front of a large painting, with a fat lady dressed in a pink silken dress, one would probably find on a prima donna girl.

“This is the entrance to the Gryffindor common room,” Percy explained slowly. “The password is ‘Caput Draconis’.” The fat lady moved in her frame, nodded to the first years and the portrait hole swung open.

“Really, everything moves appears and disappears around here!” Allyson mumbled to Harry, who seemed too stunned to give a response; so he just nodded.

They all climbed through the portrait hole — Neville needed a hand — and stepped into the Common room. It was a cosy circular space, decorated in the house colours red and gold. The walls had several scarlet tapestries which depicted famous witches and wizards. Filled with Squashy armchairs, small tables, and a bulletin board lined on one wall, the room was almost too crowded. A window on the left looked out onto the school grounds and a large fireplace in the centre of the room dominated one wall. 

“Dormitories are this way,” a Prefect girl explained, earning a displeased from Percy. Smiling at a quivering Neville Longbottom the girl led the first-years to two spiral staircases. “Boys take the right and girls take the left.”

“Girls to the left,” Allyson echoed and the Prefect girl smiled. 

“Indeed,” She nodded. “Boys, take notice to not take the wrong stairs. Accident or not, there will be consequences.”

Percy looked sour before beckoning the boys to follow him, up the stairs and the Prefect girl led them up the left staircase. Allyson grinned as she climbed up the spiral staircase and recalled that the staircases to the girls’ dormitories were enchanted to keep teenage boys out; stairs changing into a slide and a siren would sound. It seemed to her, that wizards were quite old fashioned, considering girls could get into the boys’ dorm rooms. 

The dormitory was a circular room decorated similarly to the common room. Scarlet curtains hung from the six four-post beds spaced evenly around the perimeter. The dorm room was equipped with a centrally located stove. Each four-poster bed was flanked by a set of windows and some space to store their belongings. On the windowsill was a large water jug, probably for when any student should feel the need for a drink in the middle of the night. 

“I’m quite nervous for tomorrow.” Chrissa Golding said, rubbing her hands. “What subject are you looking forward to the most?” she asked.

Allyson was silent for a moment. “Transfigurations, I suppose. It sounds really interesting to change objects around you with just a flick of your wrist.”

“I suppose so,” Chrissa started thoughtfully, “but also a handful. I’ve heard it’s one of the most difficult subjects there is.”

Allyson nodded. “I’m more worried about potions though. If it is anything like cooking, I’ll suck at it.”

That last statement caused the girls to laugh. Allyson found her trunk already by a fourposter bed and she flopped back on it. Tracey sat down next to her glancing at Allyson as she put a picture of her parents on her nightstand.

“Why is it not moving?”

“The picture?” Allyson asked, smiling amused as Chrissa tapped her finger at the picture frame. She frowned and nodded at Allyson.

“It’s not supposed to move. It’s a Muggle picture.”

“I see,” Chrissa said cradling the picture in her arms as if it was a prized possession. Allyson had the distinct feeling she knew where to look for it if it ever went missing. The other girl carefully set the frame down and bounded to the other end of the room, finding her own bed. Allyson shrugged out of her clothes and tiredly changed into her pyjama. 

“God, I’m tired.” She mumbled to herself as she tiredly crept under the covers. 

“Shouldn’t you brush your teeth?” Hermione Granger’s voice demanded, although not unpleasantly. Allyson cracked one eye open to see Hermione lean against the post of Allyson’s bed. 

Moaning, slightly annoyed, she propped herself up on her elbows and picked her wand up from her desk. “I’ve got magic. Just as effective and much faster!”

“Oh, really? Which one?” Granger’s voice sounded excited. 

“Scourgify, which cleans practically everything” Allyson explained tiredly, rubbing at her eyes. “Or ‘Tergeo’, although that is more used to syphons material from a surface,” Allyson added as an afterthought, already deciding on the first option. She slowly made the indication with her wand, pointed at her mouth and muttered: “Scourgify.”

“I see,” Hermione answered. Allyson rolled on her back and propped herself up on her elbows before sitting up, making a small hand gesture for her to sit or move along. The girl opposite of her plopped down happily. She had never been popular amongst her peers and as Hermione Granger started to prattle on about Hogwarts a History, she wondered if being smart and different was a required notion to be popular in the Wizarding World.

“So, you’ve been reading up on the subjects as well?” Hermione Granger ended her monologue about the different classes and Allyson nodded slowly. 

“Yes, I wish I could do more than just read through the books, but my parents didn’t appreciate the floating furniture.” She said, remembering her father’s peeved expression when the couch caught fire.

“My parents don’t really understand. I tried to explain, but well, I didn’t really understand either.” Hermione said. “Let me introduce myself formally. I’m Hermione Granger.”

“Allyson Gilbert, it’s a pleasure,” Allyson said, shaking Hermione’s hand.

Hermione smiled before crossing the room to her bed and changing into her pyjama. Allyson pulled the blankets up till under her chin and glanced around the room, eyes flitting over the dusty, musty tapestry and lingered on the old wooden frame of the window. She smiled as she rolled her wand through her fingers, scorified her mouth — which felt really weird — again and cuddled her pillow against her. This was going to be a fantastic year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And this is chapter four. As for Allyson's sorting, again, I did a test on Pottermore to sort that one out. I genuinely didn't mind where she should go (although certain houses would have worked better than others in this story). Please, leave a review! See you soon!


	6. 142 Stairs

The castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, surrounded by high trees and a huge iron gate, stood proud and strong on top of a hill in the north of Scotland. Small swirls of smoke curled up from the turrets and dissolved into the twilight, while the early morning light fell gently on the windows. The school grounds were large and the scrubby grass and tussocks stretched out in all directions. The towering wrought iron gate was overgrown with creepers and creaked open out of their own accord when a man, clad in dark robes, stepped closer. 

Marching past the gates and onto the path, the man waved his hand irritatedly at the light rain. Wet grass stuck to his dark loafers and the wind-raked at his robes. A flight of stone steps led up to the huge double doors of the castle’s entrance and the figure quickened his pace when the light rain became a heavy drizzle. 

A watery sun broke through the clouds, yet the rain kept coming down. He passed a wooden cabin, a dog growled softly but no other creature seemed to mind this man sauntering over the school grounds at such an early time. Perhaps if the creatures knew what was to come they would—

But no one did and quite practically no one cared— Well no one, but one— 

Allyson Gilbert woke up early; the birds chirping loudly and her eyelids heavy. Unlike many, the early hours of the day didn’t bother her and she stretched her arms lazily above her head. She just lay there for some time, watching a watery sun splay out over the ceiling, before carefully kicking the covers back. Allyson wasn’t used to sharing a bedroom with others and as everyone was still asleep she crept silently through the bedroom. She hadn’t been in the bathroom last night and slowly stepped into the white-tiled room. It was large with several cabinets decorated with the Gryffindor House colours and two large sinks hanging from one wall. Three shower stalls were lined up on the wall opposite and a clean toilet was partly hidden by a small alcove-like structure. Allyson stared at her reflection peering back from the bathroom mirror and self-consciously pushed a lock of tangled hair behind her ear. After fixing it in a simple braid, she took a lengthy shower.  
When she entered the common room ten minutes later, dressed in her brand new school-robes, it was completely deserted. Orange embers glowed dimly into the fireplace, while a window stood ajar, filtering the cool breeze inside. Despite the early hour, Allyson smiled. She plopped down onto a Squashy armchair before pulling one of her study books out. Being on her own for the largest part of her life, Allyson enjoyed being alone. She sighed softly in the peace and quiet and silently read a paragraph out of her history book. After the discussion she the day before, she had decided to read up on the war. Modern Magical History explained in vivid detail the rise and fall of Gellert Grindelwald in Europe and later the rise of Self-proclaimed-Madman — because let’s face it that’s what he was — Voldemort in Great Britain. Several paragraphs hinted he was trying to take over the world, but Allyson mentally snorted at that. As far as she was concerned he had never gotten further than Britain. He wasn’t like the blond menace who actually invaded a large part of Europe using the Second Muggle World war to justify killing thousands. 

For the Greater good…

She held her fingers between the pages and glanced outside. The grounds looked peaceful and a small drizzle of rain swept against the windows of the castle. She always liked the soft and rhythmic sound rain would bring; thudding onto the transparent vast surface of the glass.

As the watery sun broke through the clouds again, Allyson frowned. A dark figure, robes billowing in the wind, crossed over the grass field. The figure was holding onto his hood with one pale hand as the wind mercilessly tugged at it. Allyson deducted he was probably male, as he was tall and broad-shouldered. She squinted her eyes while trying to see the person’s face, but before she could see any details of his face he disappeared from view.

With her forehead still pressed against the cool window, Ron and Harry came down the stairs. 

“Morning!” Harry greeted her. 

Allyson gave him a small smile before jerking up to a standing position. Seeing a man stalk over the grounds wasn’t such a strange thing, but for some reason, it felt odd. Packing her bag, she met up with the two boys at the common room entrance.

“What were you looking at?” Ron asked.

“I have no idea,” Allyson muttered, looking around the corridor. Everything looked alike and she wondered how long it would take before she would know her way around. 

The lessons were filled with theory and even the simplest of spells were bound to rules, correct wand movement and the correct pronunciation. The first years had seven core-subjects, which they could choose to pursue more thoroughly after the fifth year; Herbology, which was given in the Greenhouses, Charms, given by Professor Flitwick and History of Magic, which was the most boring subject one could encounter. In addition, they had Astronomy, which was given by Professor Sinistra, Transfigurations, given by the strict Professor McGonagall, Defence Against the Dark Arts, given by Professor Quirrell, and Potions, given by Professor Snape; Head of Slytherin House.

From the moment Harry stepped out of bed the first, whispers followed him. Students kept coming up and introduced themselves and several students even went as far as asking for an autograph. People waiting in line to get into their classroom stood on their tiptoes, craning their necks and tried to get a look at him. Harry kept his head down, she thought he might try to become invisible, yet, Ron revelled in the attention. Harry saw that as nonverbal consent to duck behind the redheaded boy whenever he wanted. Allyson realised before long, she still had no patience with most children her age and tried to keep herself distracted by solving difficult math problems.

At least the classes were interesting. The first week had passed in a blur of classes and exploring the castle. The subjects were wonderful and, although settling in took some getting used to, the Allyson liked most of her teachers. The castle, which looked already huge from the outside, was even larger from the inside. There were seven upper floors, a few towers and more turrets than Allyson could’ve counted. Navigating oneself between classes proved to be challenging as staircases had the tendency to move — a splendid idea of Rowena Ravenclaw — and it was less than pleasant when they did so while you were ascending or descending them.

It was on the third day, she lost her cool. They had been looking around for their charms class, and as usual, they were at the wrong part of the castle. As Allyson flipped through her notebook with an untidy drawn map of the school, a boy almost slammed into her. At first, she had thought it was her fault for not watching where she was going and swiftly readjusted the straps on her bag when she noticed the group of students following them.

She had enough of people pointing fingers and following them.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!” Allyson snapped as yet another boy gasped and pointed at Harry’s scar. “Don’t you lot have an ounce of subtly into your body?”

Clearly taken aback by the display of pure hostility the boy stuttered. He was older than Allyson, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. 

“Yes,” she snapped, as Harry tried to usher her away. “You are quite right. That’s Harry Potter, very clever of you! And shall I indulge to you a little secret? He breathes oxygen just like you do and once in a while he actually reads a book and uses the toilet just like the rest of the student body! Now that you know this, leave him alone.” She hissed; Harry finally succeeding into dragging her away.

Rounding the corner, Ron smirked at her. “That was brilliant. You are brilliant.”

“Thanks, Ron.” She answered, glowering at the stunned boy they left behind and as she was about to make a vulgar gesture, Harry bodily pushed her into the next corridor.  
“Are you always this impatient?" Harry asked seriously, but couldn’t quite hide the small smile.

“Yes, and you better get used to it.” She dryly retorted, pushing a lock of dark hair out of her face. “You’re definitely stuck with me now.”

Clucking his tongue, Harry shrugged, while Ron gave her an impressed look. “You are nothing like the girls I’ve met before—” he said wistfully and Allyson wondered exactly what kind of girls Ron had met before. In the end, she didn’t ask and he didn’t explain. 

In the early afternoon, the students were free to participate in long strolls over the grounds and enjoy a nice meal in the Great Hall. Just like dinner and breakfast, lunch was great and the boys used it as some kind of ‘stuff your face with everything you can get your hands on’ moment. Which was vaguely amusing as well as it was disgusting… Ron Weasley didn’t seem to have been taught any form of etiquette and really resembled a wild animal during feeding time. He was unlike anyone she’d ever met and while he didn’t seem to grasp the basic context of etiquette, yet, he was a source of knowledge when it came to all the strange customs in the Wizarding world. 

The Wizarding world…

The Wizarding world could be considered backwards in many ways. Not only did they refuse to use recent Muggle inventions — like electricity — there was a hierarchy. Allyson had always been far more intelligent than her peers — it came from parents with certain high expectations — and combined with the accidental magic, she had not been able to make many friends when she went to a Muggle school. That hadn’t changed for the better when her parents decided she needed advanced homeschooling away from her peers. 

The way Ron spoke about certain things, even if he hadn’t realised it himself, made it clear to her that connections were everything. Not only that, but the magical world seemed to be more corrupt and prejudiced than the non-magical world. As a Muggle-born witch, Allyson would always be a second or even a third class citizen. The ones in power were the old Pure-blood families with old money.

Many of the Pure-blood students — mostly the older ones — made it clear they thought themselves to be better. Blood purity was one of those outdated, mostly, Pureblood beliefs, that quite baffled her. More than once she was shoved aside, to make way for some jerk or the other and every time the urge to hex one — older be damned — grew stronger. She’d even decided she could claim it to be accidental magic. Or she could use a spell the textbooks considered too advanced for her and deny being responsible for it.

She suspected she might even get away with it, as long as she didn’t do it during McGonagall’s rounds. Professor McGonagall wasn’t a teacher to cross. Except form having a lethal sarcastic streak she was very strict and was clever. More than that, McGonagall was the witch who kept an extra close eye on her. She wasn’t obvious in her observations, like the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Quirrell and the Charms Flitwick were, but from the moment the first-years stepped into the Transfigurations classroom, Allyson had felt her teacher’s eyes on her. They had just taken a seat behind a desk, pulling out textbooks, parchment and ink pots when McGonagall stepped away from her desk.

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” she said, eyes flitting through the classroom and momentarily staying on Allyson. “Anyone caught fooling around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again, while her students gasped and clapped their hands enthusiastically. The second the woman had refreshed the spell with a careless flick of her wrist, Transfigurations became Allyson’s most favourite class. It was a pity they weren’t going to be changing the furniture into animals anytime soon.   
After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match to turn into a needle. Hermione Granger seemed to be just as studious, if not more, as Allyson and at the end of the lesson Allyson had managed to give it the look of a needle — although it wasn’t yet capable to penetrate the skin — and Hermione had managed to make the match silver and pointier. They were treated with a rare smile. 

Allyson’s second favourite subject was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Quirrell’s classroom and Quirrell himself smelled strongly of garlic, and according to the Professor, the garlic was to ward off a Romanian vampire. Allyson wasn’t sure if she should believe that. He seemed awfully eccentric but didn’t look like he could hurt a fly, much less a dangerous vampire. His turban he got from a Persian Prince, as a gift for rescuing the prince from a troublesome Zombie. Allyson decided the fool had probably accidentally appeared above the Zombie during apparition and so had involuntarily saved the prince. There was simply no way, he had done it on purpose.

The Weasley twins, Fred and George described him as ‘a bit weird’ one evening when she was sitting in the Gryffindor Common room doing her homework. Fred Weasley described being odd as a requirement to be allowed as a Defence teacher. After all, the spot was jinxed and till now none of the applicants had been able to hold the job for more than a year.

After that Fred and George had left the Common room, disappearing into the corridors. Their cheerful twittering echo sharply off against the high walls and she collapsed into her seat. Hermione Granger peeked over the edge of her book and raised an eyebrow: “Jinxed the spot?”

She shrugged, her shoulders rolling with the motion. “I have no idea. Quirrell is weird enough… Hogwarts’ Headmaster is weird enough. Could be possible…”

When Friday came the Gryffindors had their first shared class with the Slytherins. Allyson was dreading that class. Potions class was taught by the Slytherin Head of House Severus Snape, who was a tall and intimidating wizard who, according to Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, favoured the Slytherins. When Allyson woke that morning the grounds were covered by blue dawn and the cold had diffused across the windows. A dark grey blanket of clouds stretched over the castle and rain splashed against the stone walls and clattered off against the windows. 

An ominous feeling had settled in the pit of Allyson’s stomach and she flipped tiredly through the pages of her Potions book (‘Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger’) during breakfast. Fingering the edge of the page of her book, she settled her potions kit on her lap and poured herself a cup of Earl Grey tea. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to Potions class with the hostile Potions Master and the thought of being locked up in a classroom without windows didn’t seem very pleasant either. 

“I’m sure you’ll do fine, Allyson.” Came the soothing voice of Hermione Granger as she took a seat beside Allyson. Ron looked up from his breakfast and he didn’t seem pleased. 

“I doubt it,” Allyson answered. “Well, as long as we keep ourselves to the theory only, there should be no problem.” She muttered as an afterthought, and she glanced sideways at the page about Antidotes to Common Poisons. Apparently, there were a few objects that reversed the effects of common poisons; like a Bezoar, Mistletoe Berries, and Unicorn Horns.

‘Devine a Common potion…’

“Allyson?”

She slowly looked up from her book and furrowed her brows at Harry, as he leaned over the table. “Yes, Harry?”

“Did you—” he started, just as the morning mail arrived. He didn’t finish his sentence, holding his arm out when a snow-white owl circled the Gryffindor table. Hedwig dropped down in front of him. Till now his familiar had not brought him any letters, although the snow-white animal did sometimes follow the other owls, nibbling at Harry’s ears or simply to get himself a bit of toast or a piece of bacon. Without looking up from her book Allyson offered the owl a piece of toast and stared at one of the marked passages. 

“Did you even eat something?” Harry asked, unrolling his scroll, as he sent Hedwig off again.

“Hm,” 

“No, she didn’t.” Hermione interrupted and Allyson glared at her.

“I did,” she countered.

“A cup of tea does not qualify as breakfast.”

“You sound like my mum.” 

“If you ate like that at home,” Hermione started, “then I’m sure you have had this conversation before. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

Closing her book with a thud, she picked a sandwich from one of the plates and stuffed it in her mouth. “Happy now?”

“Gross, Allyson,” Harry retorted, “but, yes, very!”

Allyson rolled her eyes, chewing on the last bites of her sandwich before pointing her index finger at Harry’s letter. “Who’s that from?”

“Hagrid,” he admitted.

“Right the Hogwarts caretaker who took you away from your aunt and uncle.” She nodded, remembering the large man before picking up her school bag. When the bell rung, the students got up from their seats and started across the Hall. Though it was not a long distance to cross, the slippery stairs demanded both exertion and caution. The marble staircases rounded a steep drop near the end and the chilly temperature dropped even more. 

It was shivering cold, and Allyson immediately regretted not putting on something warmer. The dungeons were dark, the torches on the wall barely gave off enough light and the floor was slippery. The cinderblock walls had a soft sheen of green moss covering them and she twitched her cold, chilly fingers. Sighing, she hitched her schoolbag higher on her shoulder. There was a small ripping sound and suddenly the handle of her bag snapped, sprawling all her books, notes and ink bottles over the flagstone floor.

“Shite,” she hissed, glaring at the mess splayed onto the stone floor. She wasn’t stupid; she knew she stuffed too many books into her bag, but still—

“Bloody hell,” Ron whispered eyes wide, “how did you even fit all of that into your bag?”

“Practice,” she muttered, crouching down onto the floor. “Go on ahead, I’ll only take a minute.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked slowly and she smiled while gathering her belongings.

“Yes, I’m sure. You were the one who was afraid Snape would look for a reason to get to you. So don’t give him a reason.”

Both boys nodded and went inside. Allyson tried to ignore the burning stares of her classmates. Some students snickered, stepping over and around her, while others didn’t bother looking at her. With an annoyed groan, she stuffed the last book into her bag and pulled her wand out.

“Reparo,”

The handle immediately knitted itself back together. She smiled at her handy work, threw the handle over her shoulder and hastily made her way into the classroom. The dungeon room, in which Potions classes were given in, was creepy with all the dark bare walls and the sheen of green moss covering them. There were pickled animals floating in glass jars and Allyson shivered. The door thudded close louder than she would have liked and Professor Snape, who had been in the middle of taking the roll call, looked up with a surly frown.

Allyson realised with an unpleasant tingle she had interrupted him mid-speech and with a face reddening quickly, she slipped into the room as quietly as possible. Snape’s dark eyes flitted through the room, and his lips drew back into a sneer. Allyson reddened even more and inched towards an empty seat. 

“Ah, Miss—” 

“Allyson Sir. Allyson Gilbert,” She answered, stepping further into the room. “I’m sorry Professor, the handle of my bag broke.” 

Snape lowered his scroll to the desk and his frown deepened. Behind the tall imposing man, she saw Draco Malfoy sniggering, his cronies one seat before him grinning as well. He walked up to the end of the classroom, his robes whipping around him. “Well, Miss Gilbert, you just lost your House ten points,” Snape said, his beady black eyes looking down menacingly at her. Allyson bit her lip. “Do take a seat." 

She nodded and was about to take a seat next to Neville when the potions master shook his head. “Not there, Miss Gilbert. Why don't you sit down next to Mister Malfoy, that way you won’t cause another disruption!” 

Scowling she stomped over to where Malfoy was seated. The blond was shaking, the corners of his lips tugged up. Professor Snape strode back to the front of the class and whipped around. 

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making.” He started. Snape spoke in a whisper, but the students still understood every word — just like Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape could effortlessly keep order. Unlike Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape did not only freeze the students he did also scare a large percentage of the students; mainly the quivering Neville Longbottom.

“As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses— I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Allyson swallowed nervously and picked at a vial of glittering black beetles eyes on her desk. The students had fallen still after Snape’s cold introduction and Allyson carefully got her textbook and parchment out. Malfoy wasn’t looking at her, setting up his cauldron and while opening his textbook. The Potions master’s gaze flitted through the classroom. His gaze lingered on Harry and Ron, seated in the third row from the front. She noticed his lips curl back in a smile and he stopped in front of the two boys. “Potter, what would I get if I added the powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?”

Allyson fingered her textbook nervously. ‘Asphodel’ and an infusion of ‘Wormwood’ were both ingredients for a sleeping draught. She had read all about it and she shifted in her seat. Harry, on the other hand, hadn’t read up on the theory. His eyebrows were furrowed together and he peered up at his teacher with a confused look on his face. Hermione’s hand shot up. She knew it wasn’t surprising.

Harry looked Allyson’s way now. Rubbing her eyes roughly, she mouthed the word ‘sleep’ to him. 

“Uhm, they induce sleep…” Harry muttered, his answer barely audible and Allyson nodded in agreement. 

Snape looked almost stunned and his eyes widened. Hermione Granger turned around in her seat, surprise evident on her face. And then the suspicion took over. Her gaze slowly flitting towards Allyson. Snape seemed to make the same connection since he turned slightly to give her a death glare.

“Very well, Mister Potter,” he started, eying Allyson with a sneer. “In some way they do, also known as the Draught of Living Death.” He explained. “Well, Mister Potter, another one. Where do you think, should I look to find a bezoar?” He asked, his tone quipped before he turned back to Harry.

Allyson didn’t know what kind of ‘bezoar’ he meant, although she supposed he meant the one against ‘common potions’. But where to find one, she wasn’t sure. She knew from her mother, who was had worked as a Pharmacist, that bezoars in general, could be found in one’s stomach. There were various animals who ‘formed’ them, but Allyson supposed Snape meant a magical creature and therefore she had no idea.

“Nothing to say, Miss Potter?” Malfoy whispered from beside her and she glared at him.

“Just shut up.” She hissed. 

Ignoring the silently laughing blond boy next to her, she peered at Harry again and pointed at her abdomen. His eyes flitted at her and she mouthed the word ‘stomach’ to him. His eyebrows furrowed even more and Allyson repeated the gesture; hoping against hope, he would understand what she meant. Snape must have noticed her and turned around. 

“Miss Gilbert,” he started threateningly but Harry made a low sound from the back of his throat and the Potions professor turned to him with a fierce scowl. 

“I don’t know, Sir.” He said.

The edges of Snape’s mouth lifted up, showing his yellowed teeth. “Well, well, you didn't deem it important to look at the information in your book, Mister Potter? Well, let’s try it again, shall we?” Snape continued “What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?”

Allyson pursed her lips. According to ‘Magical Drafts and Potions’ and ‘One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi’ Monkswood and Wolfsbane were the exact same thing. It was also known as aconite. Harry, on the other hand, didn’t and glared angrily at Snape. His eyes flitted to Allyson again and she mouthed ‘the same,’ before hiding her face behind her textbook. From the first row, Hermione Granger shook her head disapprovingly, her hand still up in the air, yet Snape ignored her.

“I wouldn’t know Sir,” Harry stated, crossing his arms over his chest, “but I think Hermione knows, so why don’t you ask her?” 

Several students laughed, but one look of Severus Snape silenced them immediately. He glared Hermione, beckoning for her to lower her hand and stepped closer to Harry’s table with a feral glint in his eyes. “For your information, Potter, a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most potions. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite.”

There was a small moment of silence, as most students stared blankly at their Potions Professor. “Well, why aren’t you writing this down?” the man snapped, his last words becoming clipped and obnoxious.

His words were almost immediately followed by a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Allyson followed their example and scribbled the information down in a dark-leather notebook. She harshly put a line under the word; ‘bezoar’ and shifted in her seat. Snape had returned to the front of the class and he peered through the classroom with a cold look, remaining on Harry’s form. “Gryffindor gets one point deducted, because of your big mouth, Potter!”

For the remainder of the class, Snape paired the students up in couples. They were to work on a simple potion to cure boils and while the students copied the instruction off of the blackboard, Snape swept around the dungeons in his long black cloak like an avenging angel of death. He watching the students weight dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticising almost all, but left Allyson alone, since she was working with Malfoy. Apparently, Snape liked Malfoy.  
They had efficiently divided their duties. Allyson chopped the horned slugs into bits, while Malfoy stirred and added the ingredients to the potion, which was bubbling happily above the fire. Occasionally Malfoy’s elbow collided with hers and at first Allyson thought he might do it on purpose, however, when she glanced over she realised he was left-handed. Although her arm might have started to turn blue, she had to admit, he had a feeling for potions. 

As he dropped the horned slugs in the cauldron Professor Snape passed by. He called on the class, to observe the perfect way that Malfoy had stewed their horned slugs. Just as the students were standing up to come over, green clouds of acrid smoke and a loud hissing sounds filled the dungeon.   
Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus’ cauldron, who had partnered up with him, into a twisted blob, and the potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. In a matter of seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools. Neville, who had been drenched in the hot potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned from the pain. On his arms and legs, angry red boils appeared.

“You Idiot!” snarled Snape, clearing the spilt potion away with one wave of his wand. “I take it, you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”

Neville whimpered softly, more boils started to pop up all over his skin.

“Take him up to the hospital wing!” Snape spat to Seamus before he turned to Harry and Ron. “You there — Potter! Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? You thought such an obvious mistake would make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’ll cost Gryffindor House another point deduction.” Snape all but hissed. 

Several Gryffindors grumbled under their breath and Allyson frowned. The man might have been a very capable potions master, but he didn’t seem very suited for teaching. His blatant favouring of the Slytherins and the way he provoked Harry seemed totally uncalled for. When they finally left the cold dungeon classroom, the Gryffindors trooped quickly back upstairs. Harry’s face was red, green eyes flashing and Allyson awkwardly patted his shoulder. 

“Come on, man. Snape deducts points from Fred and George too. It’s practically tradition.” Ron explained. “Now that I think of it, can I come along to Hagrid?” 

Harry nodded, “Sure, why not.”

“Give him my best!” Allyson said, pulling her scheduler from her bag. The term had barely started and the first-years were already drowning in their homework. She was mostly relieved she wasn’t as far behind on everyone else, yet, the weekend only consisted out of two days and she had four essays to write. “I’ll see you tonight during dinner, I suppose. I think I’m going to see how far I can get with my homework.” 

Both boys gave her a blank stare. Ron shook his head. “There is a life outside of school! You do realise that, don’t you?” He asked.

“Of course I do, but I’m afraid my parents don’t. Thereby, I’m hoping to finish my homework early, so I can actually enjoy the rest of the weekend.” She answered, hoisting her bag up. 

“All right, see you at dinner,” Harry mumbled, giving a longing glance at the green grounds outside.

“Okay,” Allyson yelled before turning around and made her way up the winding staircases towards the library. As she stepped out onto the third-floor corridor, she wasn’t surprised to see it practically deserted. Allyson supposed that was because of the forbidden corridor, which ensured certain horrible death if one came too close to it. Allyson rolled her eyes. They should have tried that particular sentence when trying to keep Muggle High school children away from the supermarket during classes. Although, that might not have helped either way. 

Stretching her arms above her head she skipped through the hallway. The corridors were damp from humidity and Allyson heard the rain pelt off the large windows. The library was equally deserted and the sound of the rain thudding against the walls and windows echoed even more audible off against the high ceilings in the of parchment smelling room. Ten of thousands of books on thousands of shelves. Allyson really loved the library. She had always liked books and used to visit the public library back home often. Even though that library was a lot smaller than the Hogwarts library, she’d had never been disappointed with its contents.

She smiled again and navigated herself to the right section at the back. As she traced her finger over their spines, she easily located the book she was looking for: ‘Defensive Magical Theory - by Wilbert Slinkhard’.

Waving at Madam Pince, who appeared to be getting used to her, Allyson sat down at one of the tables located by a window. Rummaging through her bag she got out quill and parchment. An hour later she was deeply engrossed in her book, scribbling down answers and spells. She was half aware of a chair being pulled back at her table but wasn’t too concerned about it. The next moment a book bag was unceremoniously thrown on her table. Looking up, she stared right in the face of Draco Malfoy.

“You’re sitting at my table!” he retorted. 

Allyson blinked. Allyson stared. Allyson gaped. “Come again?”

He ran his hand through his hair, sat down and sassily replied: “This is the table I use for studying and now you’re… occupying it.” He became silent for a moment. “And to add to that, you’re in the way.” He drawled. 

“Erm, Malfoy, no offence, but just because you use this table so now and then, doesn’t make it yours. And really, I wouldn't mind if you wish to use it too, but if I offend you then I suggest you find yourself a different table to sit.” She said, pulling her book out from under his bag and continued reading.

“Doesn’t make it mine? With the donation my Father makes, it could as well be.” He snapped back.

She scrunched her eyebrows. What was wrong with this boy? “I didn’t know one could buy himself a place in the library. Moreover, I think it would show some character if you’d be able to share once in a while.” She huffed. The ‘spoiled rich kid’ part left hanging in the air.

“Are you implying, I can’t share?” He said, dangerously low.

She gave him a blank look and rolled her eyes. “Whatever else did you think I was implying?” 

He snorted and sat down with a thud. “I can share, thank you very much!” He declared, muttering profanities under his breath. 

Allyson stared at him for a moment before shrugging, cradling her face into her hand, and returned to her reading. Apparently, when Malfoy wasn’t surrounded by the large boys or any other member of his Slytherin posse for that matter, he was somewhat civil. Alyson tilted her head in confusion as she watched him write and twirled her own quill and rolled it between her fingers.  
As the sun sank lower, toppling off the horizon, the light drained away from the sky and twilight settled over the ground. Allyson had just finished her Transfiguration homework and she closed her book with a soft thud, peering at her calendar. She frowned when she noticed hurried footsteps coming closer. Sucking her cheeks between her molars, she curiously glanced towards the library door. 

“What if she isn’t there anymore, Harry? It is time for dinner, she might as well have left to eat.” Ron’s voice reached her ears. Allyson softly let out a sigh and tapped her quill inaudible against her ink bottle. 

“Then we’ll go to the Great hall after we make sure she isn’t still studying.” A slightly annoyed Harry answered. 

With furrowed eyebrows, she packed her books, parchment and ink away and left Malfoy to his own devices with a small nod in his direction. It wouldn’t do to have him exchange insults with Harry and Ron again. Thereby, she wanted to stay welcome in the library and having three boys screaming to each other probably wasn’t going to work in her favour. Allyson glanced at the strict Liberian. The woman’s lips were drawn back in a tight line and she glared at the door of her library. Yes, screaming would definitely turn things for the worst. The underfed vulture had threatened students for less with complete banishment till a sixth year and Allyson quickened her pace, leaving the table near the window and away from Malfoy. As she rounded a tall bookcase, her friends almost ran into her. 

“Ah, Ally,” Harry stated, skidding to a halt in front of her “we were looking for you!” 

“I know; I heard you coming.” She answered swiftly, pursing her lips. Hell, probably everyone in the library heard them coming. “We might ”

“Is there something wrong?” Allyson asked, noticing their sullen faces. Ron glanced around the library impassively while Harry seemed to be too excited to even care where he was.

“There was a break-in at Gringotts. That’s the bank run by Goblins.” Ron explained and when Allyson nodded in understanding he went on. “Anyway, the break-in was on Harry’s birthday.”

Allyson nodded again, leading them out into the cool corridors away from the library. “I know, it was in the paper this morning, but I thought they had no leads? No one was arrested nor were there any leads to the culprit. Why is that important, I thought nothing was taken?”

Harry grabbed both her and Ron by their upper arms and dragged them into an empty classroom, after which he closed the door. A window stood ajar, ruffling the stack of foxed parchment on the teachers’ desk. The walls were light with dark stains where they angled into the ceiling and candles provided light in the claustrophobic silence.

Allyson couldn’t handle the suspense anymore. “What’s going on?”

“When Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley, we visited Gringotts,” Harry explained, his eyes flitting through the room. “He emptied vault seven hundred thirteen the same day as that break-in. Nothing special, if you ask me. A small grubby little package.” Harry said. “But it was really weird. I know there’s something going on and Hagrid knows something, but he isn’t talking.”

“I still don’t understand…”

“Don’t you think it’s weird the bank was robbed on the same day Hagrid and I retrieve a package out of vault seven hundred thirteen?”

“I’m not sure?”

“What do you reckon, was in the package?” Ron asked eyes lighting up at the idea of a conspiracy. 

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, but whatever it was, it’s probably now somewhere at school.”

“Why do you think that? Hagrid might as well have hidden it somewhere on the grounds. From what I understood, he knows this place better than anyone.” Allyson said, taking a seat at one of the desks lining the wall. 

“Because Hagrid had to get the package for Professor Dumbledore,” Harry explained. “If Dumbledore wants it, don’t you think it is quite important?”

“And important things are not kept on the grounds.” Allyson finished for him. “I suppose you have a point.”

Allyson crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her head against the wall behind her. ‘A small grubby little package’ could be taken anywhere. Allyson supposed the teachers didn’t stay 24/7 at school, but why not bring the item here, where Dumbledore could watch over it. Not to mention what was small and worth to rob a bank for? The silence in the classroom fell heavy on her skin. Her fingers were getting numb from the autumnal air that crept through the open window. The soft drizzling of the rain was clearly audible in the silence which had settled over the three friends.

“So—” Allyson started, not sure what she should say.

“Recon we should try and find out what it is?” Ron asked. Allyson frowned. 

“I think so,” Harry began. “If they hide it somewhere in this school, the people searching for it, might try and come here!”

“I do think if it is well protected when it is at school,” Allyson started thoughtfully. “don’t you think we are putting extra attention on it if we are to search for it?”

“I don’t know,” Harry murmured. 

“I think Harry’s right,” Ron said and Allyson understood his excitement. Ron had grown up in the Wizarding world and was told his whole life the Goblin-run bank was impregnable and now someone broke through the heavy security without being caught.

“I suppose we could keep our eyes open.” She admitted. “I mean we can be subtle, can’t we?”

Ron flushed and Harry grinned sheepishly before nodding. 

Allyson glanced outside. Small pellets of water splattered against the window and dripped towards the ground, several feet below, making strange twisting lines. The water of the black lake rippled with the drizzle and the strong wind pulled and pushing at the blades of grass and the leaves. The trees in the north swung softly and Allyson remembered the strange hooded figure stalking over the grounds on those early hours a few days ago.

Unknown as to why she shivered—

To be continued...

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be uploaded at least once a week. Let me know what you think!


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